


Benedictus

by Graculus



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 84,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graculus/pseuds/Graculus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where Daniel Jackson never joined the SGC, fate and a stolen canopic jar combine to bring him to their attention anyway... </p><p> </p><p>Originally written for NaNoWriMo in about 2005, Benedictus was originally published in zine form by Ashton Press, and has now been posted here by request since the previous site where it was posted has now gone the way of all things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Life, Jack O’Neill was certain, wasn’t supposed to be like this. He felt as though he’d been sleepwalking for years, tied to a job he was good at but didn’t really like. 

It had been a lifeline, of course, back when he’d been so close to the edge of the abyss that he could stare down into it and wonder just what it would be like to use his service weapon, and he couldn’t have said what had stopped him. The recall to active duty, unexpected, had thrown him a rope in many ways—at least it had given him a reason to get up in the morning, even if in the end nothing had come of it.

He remembered Catherine Langford enthusing about some young genius who was going to come and revolutionize their thoughts about that big stone whatever-it-was they’d been landed with, but the genius had never arrived. Jack had been stuck there, in a mountain full of geeks; apparently geeks who also weren’t that good at their jobs. None of them had been able to figure out what the thing was, the thing that had later turned their preconceptions of the universe on their heads, and they’d been left to find out by accident. 

Still, at least it had got him out of the house and away from all those memories. Maybe it had been that, as much as anything else, which had almost made him take that fateful step. Being there, surrounded by memories he couldn’t talk about with anyone, not even Sara. Back in the saddle again, away from a house where every corner reminded him of Charlie and all the things that would never be, the urge to kill himself just wasn’t as strong. Jack had seized on work as an excuse not to go home and by the time it was clear that work wasn’t going to give him much to be going on with, home just wasn’t home any more.

The Air Force had been happy for him to carry on being in charge, though, and Jack had stayed there ever since, even when General West was found other things to do—guardian of the secrets of the universe, as they’d later discovered. Not that anyone had known that was the case at time, or at least not until someone calling himself Apophis had come through the device and changed their world forever. 

He’d been unlucky though, that particular Goa’uld—the hostages he’d taken were tougher than they looked. One of them had not only been able to figure out how the whole chevron thing worked, she’d also been able to escape and make her way back to the Chappa’ai and then back to Earth. Her sudden arrival, disheveled and half scared out of her wits regardless of the use she’d made of her unarmed combat training, signaled the beginning of a new phase for the Air Force. A beginning Jack O’Neill was well placed to exploit, considering his own background in special ops and the fact he wasn’t actually doing anything else he’d need to be pulled away from. 

So, in short order, Jack had found himself reporting to another general, one he’d never met before—who seemed like a guy who had his head screwed on okay—and getting together a team to head out into the unknown. Which seemed like old times, really, particularly once he’d been able to pull a few strings he wasn’t sure were still effective and get a couple of his old unit back. 

They’d gone out there, exploring the universe, and kicked some butt while they did it. Sure it wasn’t always pretty, and one of their early missions had cost him a good man and a good friend in Charlie Kawalsky, but Jack was certain they’d done more good than harm. They’d also brought back all kinds of gizmos that were shipped off to Area 51, things that looked like props from _Star Trek_ , and that was all part of the mission parameters as well from early on. The aliens—they called themselves the Goa’uld—had all sorts of nifty things just the thought of which made Captain Carter’s geeks at Area 51 wet themselves. Who was Jack O’Neill to deny them that?

Unfortunately, as time had gone on they had to import some geeks of their own as well, even though Jack didn’t particularly want to give them houseroom. The first time something they’d brought through had blown up in a Marine’s face, taking half his head with it, Jack had realized the error of his ways. This stuff was dangerous, if they didn’t know what it was, since they had a tendency to just grab whatever they could. 

And that was where Rothman and his team came in. One of them would be on hand to cover any trip through the Chappa’ai, on the other end of a video link to give a running translation of anything with symbols on it, to avoid what had happened before. They’d noticed, after all, before the explosion there were marks on the thing that had blown and the thought was that they must be some kind of hazard warning. 

When stuff was given the all clear, which had been pretty successful up to now, Rothman’s geeks would also check it over, cataloguing stuff until they had a pretty good collection of pictures covering things they’d accumulated along the way. Always useful when the science guys figured out what something did and wanted more of them, if they had a kind of visual shopping list for reference. 

There was something about Rothman, though, that set Jack’s teeth on edge every time the two of them were in the same room. It wasn’t that Rothman didn’t know what he was doing—there was no way Jack could fault him for that—but the incessant sniffing just got to him. It was like nails down a chalkboard, after only moments of Rothman being in the room, and so he tried to avoid the scientist as much as he could. Which wasn’t too difficult, considering they were only scheduled to meet four times a year, barring major problems in some shipment back to Earth. 

So far, so good. Jack had been able to avoid Rothman for a couple of months and all was well in his world. The teams going off world were doing good work, bringing back lots of fodder for Area 51 with minimal casualties, and everyone from the Pentagon down was happy. And if they were happy, Jack O’Neill was happy; that was how it worked. 

That was probably why he wasn’t prepared for what happened that afternoon. Jack certainly never encouraged Rothman to come to his office—whenever they met, Jack always made a beeline for Rothman’s corner of the world. That way he didn’t have to try and get the other man to stop talking and leave; he could just get the hell out of there himself whenever he’d had enough. 

To cap it all, Rothman didn’t even bother to knock, just came right on in like it was the most commonplace thing in the world for him to be in Jack’s office in the first place.

“Colonel,” he gasped. Rothman paused, bent over with his hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath again. Had he run all the way from his lab? “Colonel, you have to see this.”

 _This_ , it turned out, was a crumpled copy of the _National Enquirer_. At least it was crumpled now, from being grasped in Rothman’s sweaty hand, and Jack took it from Rothman more than a little reluctantly. 

“What am I looking at?” Jack asked, peering at what appeared to be an article about the secret conspiracy between aliens and the makers of Pringles chips. 

“Not that,” Rothman said. He reached out one hand, but Jack took a step backwards almost instinctively. “The other side. The headline says something about ‘a mysterious robbery’.”

Jack turned the paper over. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Rothman continue to gasp for breath, the odd mottled shade of his face giving him more than a little cause for concern. 

“Sit down before you fall down,” he said, trying to figure out just what it was that had Rothman so riled up. 

There was a photo, blurry enough even before Rothman had got his hands on it, but Jack could see now why Rothman had reacted the way he had. Except that he wasn’t sure it was really good enough justification for charging into his office without knocking. Jack decided he’d deal with that another time, some time when Rothman didn’t look like he was about to have a cardiac arrest in the middle of Jack’s office. 

He’d seen something like that before. Not the vase itself—or at least Jack thought it was a vase, he tended to tune out the specifics when the archaeology members of the geek squad were on a roll—but definitely the markings on it. He had no idea what they meant, except that he was certain of one thing. Those symbols were Goa’uld; no matter what it said, that always spelled trouble.

\----------------------

The jar was finely made, the workmanship some of the best that Daniel had ever seen—the gold markings on it were unusual, though, resembling no script that he recognized. They gleamed in the light, the sinuous nature of the symbols tantalizing him with their lack of meaning, frustrating him when he wanted to know what they represented. It was one of a pair, this one with the head of a dog, the other with the head of a human being. Two of the usual set of four, with no sign of where the remaining ones might be. No clue to where these particular jars had come from either, since they’d arrived at the Oriental Institute by a circuitous route with no supporting paperwork to give their provenance.

Daniel finished unwrapping the second jar, setting the second one beside the first on the bench. If only they had the complete set, what a find that would be for the museum, but that was never likely to happen now; nobody had ever reported finding other artifacts with script like this. Daniel was certain that kind of news would have traveled fast in the small community that was Egyptology.

A noise, outside in the corridor, made him turn. 

“Hello?” 

No answer. Daniel turned his attention back to the jars, picking up the camera. He finished taking photos of the jars together, then of the Imsety jar on its own, before putting the camera down and starting to wrap that one up again. He took photos of the Duamutef jar then, before he began to wrap that one as well, in preparation to returning both jars to storage for the time being. 

There was that sound again, from right outside the door this time. Daniel put the half-wrapped jar down on the bench and crossed to the door, opening it. The dimly lit corridor outside was empty, no sign of anyone between the door to the storage area where he stood and the elevator at its end. There were other doors leading off the corridor, but they were usually locked and Daniel had no intention of searching the place. 

By the time he heard the sound for a third time, it was too late—the next thing he knew, Daniel found himself on the floor. His head felt like it had been split apart. He reached a shaky hand to his scalp, surprised to find it wasn’t covered in blood though the way his head hurt, he knew it had been a close thing. Another inch or so and he could have been looking at a fractured skull instead of just a headache. 

The room spun as he stood, using the bench to pull himself up, the ceiling seeming to swoop down as he straightened. Daniel’s stomach rebelled too, his breakfast threatening to make its presence known again, but he took a few slow breaths and that particular feeling subsided. 

The first thing he noticed was that the jar was gone. Not the Imsety jar, which was apparently still in its box, and not the department’s expensive camera either—a prime target for a thief, he would have thought, and much easier to dispose of than the canopic jar that had actually been taken—but the other jar. Its discarded wrapping material lay on the bench, with no sign of the Duamutef jar itself. 

He didn’t known who had hit him. Thinking back to the blow, Daniel couldn’t even have said with any certainty whether his assailant had been male or female. At least the number of people who had access to the storage area, or legitimate access at least, was relatively low and that should help. 

Daniel picked up the remaining jar, slung the camera’s strap over his shoulder and headed for the door. He didn’t want to risk his assailant coming back to finish the job, or realizing there was another canopic jar to take and returning for that one. The police could sort this out, that was their job, and now he needed to get back to his office and report the theft.

\----------------------

Once he’d got rid of Rothman, which had taken more doing than usual, Jack started making plans. He still had a few contacts in Illinois, which would probably turn out to be useful, and he was certain he’d need to talk fast when he got up there. What little he’d been able to gather, both from the newspaper reports and from local law enforcement by routes Jack didn’t wish to discuss with anyone, told him there was little chance that this would be a straightforward situation.

The canopic jar—Rothman had insisted on telling him the technical term, despite the fact he could probably discern Jack had little or no interest in it at all—had been in the custody of the Oriental Institute. This wasn’t going to be the kind of case where someone had something they shouldn’t but still there were usually ways of bringing pressure to bear about keeping all of this quiet. Apart from the theft already being in the National Enquirer, of course. At the end of the day, the Oriental Institute was a big name place and Jack would have to work carefully, otherwise he’d be out of there sooner than he could say Tutankhamen.

It hadn’t been too difficult to hitch a ride on a military transport plane heading north, though. And Jack was used to traveling at a moment’s notice, so it wasn’t like it had taken him long to pack. His team weren’t scheduled to go off world for another ten days, this particular rest period the fruit of a busy few weeks for his team. They’d found themselves under fire on their last mission, Ferretti picking up a torn ligament in his knee as he’d dived for cover, and Jack was reticent to take a replacement whenever he didn’t need to. 

General Hammond, for once, hadn’t seemed particularly interested in pushing him back into the field and had okayed his trip to Chicago with much less problem than Jack had anticipated. In fact, Hammond had seemed pleased Rothman had brought this whole thing up, citing it as evidence that the imposition of the geek squad—though he hadn’t called them that, since the general never did—had been a good idea all round. Jack wasn’t sure he’d go that far, but he had to agree they might have missed this one and, if not for Rothman, who knew what trouble that might cause them all in the longer term? 

It was puzzling, though. As far as Rothman knew, there’d been no evidence of anything else being discovered on Earth with those kinds of symbols. Or at least, when Jack had quizzed him about it, joining him reluctantly over a cup of coffee in the commissary, Rothman had been pretty sure nothing had ever been found. He’d heard rumors, or so he said, of something big that might fit the bill being found in Central America, but whatever it was had been on a boat sunk in a tropical storm off the coast of Florida along with its discoverer and nobody had so far managed to locate the right wreck. 

This canopic jar, supposedly one of a pair currently in the possession of the Oriental Institute, was unique. And that had Jack’s interest piqued, against his better judgment. In his experience, unique was rarely good. So this time around, his mission was to get in there, have a look at the surviving jar and get the hell out again, preferably with the remaining jar in his possession. If he could persuade the good people at the college in question to hand it over to the Air Force, no questions asked.

And if he couldn’t, if they refused to play ball with him in a reasonable manner, there were always alternatives. It had been a long time since Jack O’Neill had done a little breaking and entering in the name of his country, but he was certain that it was pretty much like riding a bicycle, something you never forgot how to do. 

Still, what chance was there that a bunch of academics couldn’t be persuaded somehow to do the right thing when their country asked them to?

\----------------------

He wished Isobel would stop fussing over him, like a hen with just one chick. The headache had subsided within a couple of hours, though Daniel knew he’d been lucky not to have his head cracked open by the blow—it was just good luck that meant he’d been turning at the time the blow landed, so the impact had been a glancing one instead of straight on. He’d folded anyway, crumpled to the ground with the same force as if he’d been well and truly pole-axed, which was surely the aim of the person who’d hit him.

Whoever that was. Whoever it was who’d stolen the Duamutef jar, for whatever reason they’d done such a thing. He couldn’t figure it out, even though Daniel knew nothing quite like it had ever been discovered before. It was an exquisite piece, so in some ways he could see the attraction, all that white alabaster and gold—in remarkable condition too, even though it had been buried for a couple of thousand years, give or take a few centuries.

At least he still had pictures of it, even if he didn’t have the jar itself. Daniel pulled the file from his desk drawer, spreading the pictures out across its surface like a hand of cards. Exquisite indeed, and the loss of it cut like a knife. 

As he picked up first one photograph, then the next, Daniel wasn’t all that certain what was worse—to lose the canopic jar, or the manner in which it had been lost. It was quite possible it was on the way to some private collection, a place where it would never see the light of day again and nobody would get to appreciate it, or study it. Even now it might be gracing some millionaire collector’s private cabinet of curios, somewhere in the Middle East or in one of the former Soviet republics. 

Wherever it was, Daniel was certain that its true value wouldn’t be appreciated. Not its monetary worth, though that was substantial as a result of both its unusual nature and its fine condition, but its worth to the academic community. How many things had been lost to archaeology because one person decided they had a monopoly on things that would otherwise enrich the academic community beyond their wildest dreams?

Daniel sighed, raised one hand to rub the back of his neck where he could feel a knot of tension forming. It had been a long week, one way and another, and the robbery had pretty much put the cap on it. 

First there had been the problems with plagiarism, with one of their apparently most promising students turning out to be substantially less promising than anyone had thought. Then the difficulties over funding for the next financial year, which threatened the scope of courses the department might be able to offer. An argument with Steven, the latest in a long line of bitter wrangling, had Daniel feeling like the week couldn’t get much worse. Then, of course, it had. 

“Professor Jackson?” That was Isobel, who else could it be?

“What is it, Isobel?” Daniel asked, shuffling the photographs back into some kind of order and replacing them in the folder. “I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Are you feeling all right, Professor?” she asked. Isobel was standing in the doorway, but Daniel knew that even from there she could probably see how tense he was. At least he had only bumps and bruises from his encounter with the burglar; otherwise she’d probably have refused to let him out of his sight. “I could get you some coffee,” she continued. “And don’t forget, you have that appointment at four.”

“Appointment?” Daniel flipped open his diary, scowling at the indecipherable mark he’d left there, the mark that was supposed to tell him who he was due to meet that afternoon. “I can’t read my handwriting,” he admitted, after scowling at the scribble for a moment. 

“You remember,” Isobel said. “That Air Force colonel. The one who phoned. O’Neill.”

What was the Air Force doing sending a colonel on a trip to some university’s archaeology department anyway? The message they’d had was vague: something about O’Neill needing to speak with him and that nobody else would do. 

“Right. And coffee would be great. Thank you.”

Isobel closed the door quietly. Daniel stared at the closed door for a moment, wondering just how she managed that—whenever he tried, the lock would always refuse to engage, making the door creak. Maybe she’d been a spy in her earlier life—secretly he called her Miss Moneypenny, which he had a sneaking suspicion was something Isobel would probably quite like the idea of, if she’d known. 

So, what was the Air Force doing, paying him a visit? While he’d always had a thing for men in uniform, that hadn’t been a taste Daniel had cultivated in a long time, and he was certainly much more discreet than to think his past had come back to visit him that way. All he could do was to wait for four o’clock and see just how he could help Uncle Sam.

\----------------------

They didn’t keep him waiting long, but then Jack hadn’t expected they would. Of course, he’d decided not to pull out the big guns—the dress blues—because it was going to be hard enough to explain away the presence of an Air Force colonel on campus anyway without the rest of the world knowing he was there. Still, a couple of phone calls from General Hammond and Jack had found himself sitting in a comfortable room while he waited for the relevant professor to show up.

He’d read up on the guy on the plane here, or at least as much as he could find that wasn’t written in academic gibberish. Jackson was relatively young to be the effective head of such a prestigious department, but he seemed eminently qualified if the long list of articles and books included in the biography Jack had been given was anything to go by. Not that he knew a great deal about how academia worked—while he’d done his Masters like a good career officer, Jack had never bothered to try and get his head completely around the concepts of status and tenure in the world of the academic. 

The door opened and Jack resisted the urge to look around. Instead, he studied the wall behind the desk, eyeing the row of ornate certificates that covered a significant portion of it and watching the palely reflected image of the man who’d just entered. Professor Jackson moved with the grace of an athlete, something Jack hadn’t expected; an economy of motion that marked him out as someone completely comfortable in his own skin, which wasn’t too common in the people he encountered. 

Totally and utterly in control, in this environment at least, Jack decided. Jackson rounded the end of the desk, then sat nonchalantly in the big chair that occupied the space on its other side. 

“What can I do for you, Colonel?” he asked, with no preamble at all.

Jack studied him for a moment, immediately liking what he saw. The professor looked like someone who’d worked hard at some point in his life, but there were laughter lines at the edge of his eyes and that, along with the warmth Jack saw in his face, made him feel immediately at ease. His eyes were sharp and blue, bright with both intelligence and humor.

“It’s what I can do for you, Professor,” Jack replied, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs as if he had all the time in the world. It was a definite act—if Rothman was right and the artifact that had been stolen was Goa’uld, they were all in more trouble than he cared to explain to anyone. 

“Really.” Professor Jackson smiled at that, and then reached over to pick up the telephone. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, as one long finger pressed a button that had to lead straight to the scarily efficient-looking secretary who had guarded the door. Jack shook his head. “Could I have some coffee, please, Isobel?”

Jack heard the response from the other end, or at least he thought he did. He could pretty much imagine what it was, anyway—the secretary looked like the kind of woman who’d mother their employer half to death. Jack wondered what happened when it was Professor Jackson’s birthday, and then decided that was probably too awful to contemplate, if his experience of seeing his father’s secretaries in action was anything to go by. 

“Now, down to business,” Jackson said, leaning back in his chair. “How about you tell me why the Air Force is suddenly so interested in what we do around here and cut out all the macho posturing bullshit?”

The air between them now had a definite chill to it. The whole “head of department” thing wasn’t looking like such a mystery any more, not now Jack had seen the shark lurking beneath the otherwise placid-looking waters. 

“If you insist, Professor,” Jack said. He considered for a brief moment, before deciding that honesty—or at least as much honesty as Professor Jackson’s security clearance allowed—was probably the best policy. “It’s like this …”

There was a sharp rap on the office door and they both stiffened at the sound. In Jack’s case, he could blame long years of military training and service, but the professor had reacted with startlement and he wondered what that was about. Too many digs in politically sensitive places, maybe, where Jackson had seen and experienced things he wasn’t ever supposed to?

“Come in,” Professor Jackson called. The door opened and the secretary entered, carrying a small tray. On it was an ornate brass coffee pot, a sugar bowl and two small coffee cups. “You may change your mind when you smell the stuff,” Jackson said, turning his attention back to Jack. 

“Okay,” Jack agreed, reluctantly, not sure what he was letting himself in for. He wasn’t that much of a coffee drinker, but that was probably due to the god-awful brew the Air Force described that way. When he got around to grinding the beans himself, once in a blue moon, he liked the resulting coffee just fine. “Consider me persuaded,” he continued, when the professor began to pour the dark liquid into one of the cups. “Though that looks a little too much like engine oil for my tastes.”

“Sugar, then,” the professor said, pushing the sugar bowl in his direction. “No milk.” The secretary—Isobel -had left the room, closing the door quietly behind them as Jack watched Professor Jackson pour another cup of the night-black liquid. He reached for the cup, his fingers momentarily brushing Jackson’s as he took the small vessel from him. “Help yourself.”

Jack busied himself adding sugar, aware all the while of Jackson’s gaze on him. The other man was ostensibly blowing on his own coffee, but Jack could feel that he was being studied—for a man who made his living studying things that were long dead, Professor Jackson seemed to have a healthy interest in the living as well. 

“Now, you were about to tell me what you’re doing here.” Jackson’s voice brought Jack back to the realization he was about to put a fourth spoonful of sugar into the cup and, considering its size, that was probably a recipe for disaster. “Isn’t that right?”

“I was,” Jack agreed, replacing the spoon in the sugar bowl with exaggerated care. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said. 

“You’re welcome. And stop stalling.”

If there was anything this reminded Jack of, it was those long days of counterintelligence training—learning how to interrogate and be interrogated. Jackson was wasted in academia, when he had a potentially healthy career extorting the truth from people in front of him if he only made the switch some time soon. His gaze was direct, honest, and it made Jack feel that he had to be honest as well, which wasn’t all that common a reaction on his part. 

“It’s a matter of national security, Doc,” he said. Jack couldn’t have said what drove him to that kind of flippancy, but somehow it seemed to come easily when he was facing the professor. Maybe he figured Jackson would like the challenge of making someone talk, even though he wasn’t in the interrogation business just yet. “I could tell you …”

“But then you’d have to kill me?” Jackson interrupted, finishing his sentence. “Oh, please.” 

Jack watched the professor take a mouthful of coffee, wondering just what the oily liquid tasted like without sugar, what the other man’s mouth would taste like as a result. Damn, where had that thought come from? It had been a while since Jack’s libido had swung that way and he certainly hadn’t expected some academic to make it swing. Not that Jackson was just any academic, after all. But that wasn’t what he was here in Chicago for, even though now he thought about it, the idea just couldn’t seem to leave his mind. 

“You have something,” Jack said, deciding to be a little more serious before Jackson had him thrown out of here by his secretary. That Isobel looked like she worked out, regardless of the blue rinse, and Jack had no interest in being bounced by her. “Something dangerous.”

“Everything we have here is a couple of thousand years old, at least,” Professor Jackson said. “What could be so dangerous about that, Colonel?”

“Trust me,” Jack said. “I can see how this would be hard to swallow, but it’s true.” He couldn’t see any sign that Jackson had been injured, but if the police reports were to be believed, the professor was the one who had tangled with the thief a few nights back. “Who’d be robbing your department, if it wasn’t the case?”

“We have valuable artifacts here. There’s a healthy black market in antiquities, if you know what you’re doing …”

Jack took a mouthful of the sugar-coffee concoction he’d created, winced at its sweetness and put the cup down on the desk. 

“But the thing that was stolen,” he began. “The canopic jar.” He watched Jackson’s response to that, amused despite himself that the geek had clearly thought Jack wouldn’t know the technical term, and glad now that Rothman had told him what it was. “It’s like nothing anyone has ever seen before, right?”

“A lot of things we find are unique,” Jackson said. “That just means we haven’t found one like it before, not that it was the only one ever made.”

“That’s irrelevant.” Jack leaned forward in his chair, still more than conscious of Professor Jackson watching him closely. “Now, I need to see the other one in the pair.”

\----------------------

Daniel wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but Colonel O’Neill hadn’t been it. He could probably have coped with the abrasive attitude, if the colonel hadn’t been watching him with such interest, dark eyes alive with a promise of something Daniel didn’t particularly want to name. Because naming it was dangerous, particularly now that he’d managed to work his way to being department head. Not that once, in his younger and more foolish days, Daniel Jackson would have turned down the invitation he saw clearly written there.

Now, though, he was all business. And if Daniel kept telling himself that for long enough he might just believe it. 

He also didn’t ask how O’Neill apparently knew so much about canopic jars, because he wasn’t interested in what the other man knew or didn’t know. At least that was the attitude Daniel had decided to take, for the sake of his own health and well being, and that was that. There was no reason, unfortunately, not to at least let O’Neill have a look at the other jar—it was a relatively reasonable request, even if the source was an unusual one. He couldn’t see how it would hurt to humor the Air Force. 

He hadn’t been down to the storage area since the robbery, and it had lost none of its creepiness in the meantime. Daniel reached over to flick the switch for the electric light as the two of them emerged from the elevator, noting that yet another bulb had blown in the already dingy corridor that led to the storage area.

“Nice,” O’Neill said, from beside him. 

Daniel wasn’t quite sure why O’Neill had insisted on accompanying him, or indeed why he’d agreed to it, but the two of them were there now. In some ways, he had to admit the other man’s presence was reassuring—there was a calm competence about O’Neill that set him at ease. Unexpectedly so, considering how the man’s cockiness back in Daniel’s office had riled him. 

“We aim to please,” Daniel said. When O’Neill said nothing, though he could tell he was being watched, Daniel led the way down the corridor. “Over here.”

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and flicked through them till he found the right one.

“How many people have access to this area?” O’Neill asked. 

“Not many.” Daniel thought about that for a moment. “Faculty members, of course. The archivist. Janitorial staff.” He quickly totted up the total in his head. “Less than a dozen, I’d say.”

O’Neill looked thoughtful, though in the dim light it was hard for Daniel to say just what was going through the colonel’s mind. What business was it of his, anyway? The police had already been down here, fingerprinting and photographing to their heart’s content, and everyone who had a legitimate reason for being here had been interviewed. 

“Come on,” Daniel said, letting the door swing open. He gestured for O’Neill to lead the way. “Light switch on the right,” he said, as the colonel headed into the darkened room ahead of him, apparently without any hesitation. 

The lights, once they flicked on, were brighter in here. The room itself was just a row of shelves, stretching out into the shadows and up toward the ceiling. Every shelf was crammed with boxes of all shapes and sizes, only the labels telling what they contained—assuming that the person who read them understood the notations that were used.

“All this from grave robbing?” O’Neill asked, from the middle of the room. Daniel ignored his comment, heading straight for the row of shelves that held the box with the other canopic jar. “Last time I saw something like this, it was at the end of Indiana Jones …”

“You won’t find the Ark of the Covenant here, Colonel,” Daniel said dryly. “Here, hold this.” He deposited a box into O’Neill’s arms, suppressing a grin at the cloud of dust that suddenly surrounded the other man. “This is what we came for,” he said, removing the box that had lain below it. “You can put that one back on the shelf now, if you don’t mind.”

O’Neill did as he was bid, then tried not to make a meal of brushing the dust from his suit. He didn’t strike Daniel as a vain man, but he guessed all those years of military spit and polish probably rubbed off in the end. 

Removing the lid from the box he’d chosen, Daniel began to unwrap the layers of packing material around the canopic jar. O’Neill came over to where he stood, a calm and quiet presence at Daniel’s shoulder, but one Daniel tried his best to ignore.

“Here it is,” Daniel said, when the last layer of packing had been removed. The jar’s gold decoration gleamed as he turned it carefully in his hands. “Spectacular, isn’t it?”

“Worth killing for?” O’Neill asked, quietly. 

Daniel tried not to think of what had happened only a few nights before, the stealthy approach of the person who’d struck him such an unexpected blow, and the sheer terror he’d felt as he lay there on the floor, anticipating another blow. He couldn’t help the way his hands tightened on the jar, despite his usual care when handling something that was so valuable in so many ways. O’Neill had seen it, he was sure of that, and Daniel chided himself for showing that reaction—the colonel didn’t strike him as the kind of man who’d appreciate weakness in anyone. 

That was probably why, when it came, the touch of O’Neill’s hand resting on Daniel’s shoulder unexpectedly, meant that he hardly knew what to think any more.

\----------------------

Jack wasn’t sure what had made him act that way, reaching out to touch Professor Jackson and reassure him, though they’d only met hours earlier. It was an instinctive reaction to the other man’s obvious distress—he’d put to one side the fact it had been the professor who’d been down here when the robbery took place. Maybe it was easier to be objective that way, thinking about the theft and not its circumstances.

There was no sign the professor had been injured—he’d probably argue he’d been lucky—and he hadn’t mentioned it. But Jackson’s body told a different story, the memories flooding back to unsettle him when he least expected them. And that was an experience Jack had too much familiarity with, since that kind of mental ambush was territory he’d gone over countless times. You didn’t get to be a full bird colonel, with a number of years in covert ops, without having your own closet full of skeletons, and that was just counting the work-related ones.

Jackson hadn’t moved, and something about that made O’Neill feel oddly right about what he’d done. It had been a significant step outside of the roles they’d created for themselves in the brief period of time they’d been acquainted, all things considered, and it held the potential to backfire badly. He needed this man’s cooperation, after all—the whole project needed it if just what his own ungeeky eyes told him was true about the symbols on the canopic jar Professor Jackson was holding—and one hasty reaction, instinctive or not, could have completely blown that out of the water.

“I’m sorry.” The words were instinctive too, and again Jack wondered why he’d said them, though he’d moved his hand by then and maybe that was why. In most circumstances they were little more than platitudes after all, society’s band-aid for things that had happened, but this time he knew he meant them. “I didn’t think.”

Jackson placed the canopic jar carefully back into its box, his hands busy with the packing material for a moment before he half-turned toward where Jack was still standing. 

“Maybe we should have talked about what happened down here before we made the trip,” the professor said. There was something of an apology in his voice as well, and it made Jack smile despite himself. This wasn’t a guy who looked for reassurance too often; he could see that in the resoluteness of Jackson’s expression. 

“So,” Jack said, hooking a nearby stool with one foot and pulling it over to where he stood. “What happened?” He sat, eyeing Jackson intently. 

Jackson leant back against the bench, checking where the box was before he did so, then looked down at his shoes as if he expected the whole story to be written there for his convenience.

“I was down here on my own,” Jackson began, still studying the floor intently. “Checking over the consignment—the one that included the canopic jars—and I heard a noise. It sounded like someone’s shoe …” He moved slightly then, the gesture drawing Jack’s attention down one long khaki-clad leg to the scuffed boot the professor was now dragging across the concrete floor. “When I turned to see who was there, something hit me on the head.”

That was the edited version, Jack was certain of it—a view reinforced when Professor Jackson looked up for the first time since he’d been recounting the tale. He could tell what Jackson had left out, the shooting pain from the blow, the fear of further violence, the shaking terror of the aftermath. Jackson had a wry expression on his face, and Jack could tell the professor understood the extent of their shared knowledge.

“And when you woke up, you were alone and the canopic jar was gone?” Professor Jackson nodded. “Just the one?”

“That puzzled me too,” the professor said. “Anyone who knows anything about canopic jars knows they never come singly, always as part of a set, so why not take the other one as well?”

That definitely was a puzzle, though it might limit the people who could be responsible, eliminating those with legitimate access to the storage area because they were part of the faculty. Or it could be as simple as that the thief panicked, not expecting anyone to be there, and after hitting Jackson over the head they didn’t want to stick around long enough to grab both jars. That might be even more the case if it was an inside job—it took someone with a particular constitution to bash someone they knew and be a cool enough customer to make sure they took everything they came for. 

“And I guess the Chicago police came down here, dusted for fingerprints and told you how poor your security systems were?”

Jackson frowned and Jack suppressed another smile. He’d thought as much, even as he’d followed the professor in here—anyone with an ounce of experience in breaking and entering would have thought it was Christmas come early if they’d chanced on this place. 

“Pretty much. And that the only fingerprints they found were from people who had a reason to be here.”

There was silence between them for a long moment, the two men eyeing one another in an oddly comfortable atmosphere, and Jack would have put money on the idea that Jackson was checking him out. It was an odd concept, considering they knew nothing about one another, but clearly they’d clicked in a way that had surprised both of them. That much was irrefutable, even if he wasn’t as smart as Professor Jackson apparently was. 

“We should get out of here,” Jack said, after a moment’s further thought. “I can’t explain, but I need that jar, Professor.”

“You can’t explain and you expect me to just hand it over, no questions asked?” Jackson said. He looked amused and annoyed, in pretty much equal measure, and Jack decided he liked that combination. “You’ll have to do better than that, Colonel O’Neill.”

“I think,” Jack said, “you should probably be calling me ‘Jack’ about now.” He smiled, watching for the professor’s reaction. If he hadn’t missed his guess, that invitation to greater intimacy ought to work, at least a little, in breaking down Jackson’s defenses.

“Thank you, Colonel,” Jackson said, coldly, as he straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the bench. “I think we’re pretty much done here.”

\----------------------

As he led the way back toward the elevator, Colonel O’Neill walking quietly at his side, Daniel knew he’d been played. And played by an expert, at that, even if it hadn’t quite worked. O’Neill had shown sympathy at just the right time, been a listening ear to whom Daniel had been more than willing to explain the events of the theft, and then he’d refused to play ball when it came to actually explaining why he wanted the jar.

There was nothing he could say, Daniel decided, that would be an adequate explanation for why the Air Force might want the remaining canopic jar. And for O’Neill—Jack, his treacherous brain supplied—to try and charm it out of him when all other tactics had failed demonstrated just how much contempt the Air Force, or at least one particular colonel in it, had for the intelligence of the academic world.

He’d need to secure the canopic jar somewhere else though, as soon as he’d got rid of the colonel. Daniel had seen the way that O’Neill had looked around, casing the place and assessing its security once more, even as Daniel had replaced the box containing the remaining jar back in its position on the shelves. It wasn’t safe there, not if the Air Force really wanted it; Daniel had no doubt that the man who currently stood beside him would do whatever was necessary to get hold of it. 

“The Oriental Institute appreciates the Air Force’s interest, Colonel,” Daniel said, as they alighted at ground level again. “But the jar is not available.”

O’Neill shrugged.

“Thanks for your time, Professor Jackson,” he said, extending a hand. Daniel took it, making the handshake as brief as was polite, then watched as O’Neill walked away. 

Once the door to the outside world had closed behind O’Neill, Daniel walked over and checked the catch. It had closed, locked as it was supposed to lock, and he rattled the handle experimentally, just in case. 

When he reached the storage level again, the dimly lit corridor was no less creepy than before and this time Daniel was alone. He walked briskly to the door, then lost no time in locating the box he’d only recently replaced and headed back toward the surface. The box containing the canopic jar was a comforting weight against his hip, his own scrawled notation on it surface a reminder of how recently things had all fallen unexpectedly apart. 

He’d take the jar to his office; it would be safer there. At least until he went home, when the box could accompany him. Even if someone was determined to steal it, whether that someone was Jack O’Neill or a stranger, Daniel hoped they’d think twice before accosting him in his own home for that purpose.

So, the box stood on the corner of his desk for the rest of the day, and then Daniel juggled it and his briefcase as he tried to lock his office door before heading home.

“Let me help you with that.” Daniel hadn’t seen Steven Rayner approach and certainly hadn’t realized he was close enough to grab both box and briefcase before Daniel had the chance to object. “Taking work home, Daniel?”

“What are you doing here, Steven?” Daniel asked, as he took back first the box and then his briefcase. “Don’t you have a late tutorial on Thursdays?”

“Should I be flattered that you know my timetable so well?” Steven asked. Daniel knew the other man well enough to know that no amount of questioning would get him to answer anything he didn’t want to, so he didn’t bother to press the subject of where Steven ought to be. “And you know what they say: all work and no play…”

Daniel knew exactly what Steven meant, and for a number of months he’d known it more intimately than he was now comfortable thinking about. Back when he’d first become head of department, Steven Rayner had wasted no time in renewing their former acquaintance—the abortive on and off relationship the two of them had enjoyed when they were both grad students—and it had taken Daniel a little while to realize he was effectively being used, in more ways than one. 

“I fail to see, Dr. Rayner,” Daniel said, “why I should give a damn about your opinion, whether it’s regarding my private life or anything else that isn’t strictly to do with the workings of this department.” His tone was deliberately chilly and he saw Steven react to it, as Daniel had hoped he would. “And, like I said before, don’t you have a tutorial?”

Steven just nodded, curtly, then turned on his heel and headed back down the corridor away from where Daniel was standing. He presumed far too much, at times, and during those times Daniel couldn’t help wondering just what it was that he had ever seen in Steven Rayner. 

Of course, part of it was the fact that they’d had a cozy arrangement which had worked to both their advantages—neither of them needed to draw undue attention to themselves while they were supposed to be working on their doctorates, not when the head of the department back then had been such an out-and-out bigot. The sheer fact that two of his male graduate students had been engaged in such behavior together would probably have been sufficient to give Dr. Kennedy conniptions. Neither Daniel nor Steven had doubted that discovery would have been the end of both of their academic careers, or at least a considerable problem to be overcome if they wanted to make their way in this particular world. 

This wasn’t Cambridge, after all, where a little homosexual activity between colleagues might be frowned on but essentially ignored in favor of the fact those colleagues were clever enough to get there in the first place. Daniel had spent a year over there, and while he’d been surprised at the tolerant overlooking of sexual activities that side of the Atlantic; he had no misapprehensions that Chicago would be equally forgiving. 

So, he and Steven had restricted their activities to one another, though that hadn’t always been particularly fulfilling for either of them. Definitely a case of the ends justifying the means, though, Daniel reminded himself as he tried to forget about his encounter with Steven and headed towards the parking lot.

\----------------------

Okay, so maybe he’d not been quite as subtle as he thought. Jack had to admit that now, having got the brush-off from Professor Jackson and then some. He was certain he’d seen interest there, certain as he was of his own name, and yet Jackson was obviously tightly wound enough that he wasn’t going to get too far trading on that particular belief. At least no time soon, or any time before hell froze over if the response from Jackson was to be believed.

Back in his hotel room, Jack pondered his next move. Knowing Jackson as he did, even from their relatively brief time together, Jack was certain the other man was no fool—he was intelligent, that much was easily clear, but he also had a good head on his shoulders in other ways as well. This wasn’t a man who was just going to leave the remaining jar in storage, in the hope that nobody would get the idea of breaking in there and stealing that one too.

Of course, Jack couldn’t tell whether the thief responsible for the robbery of the other jar was an unlucky professional or just an amateur. A professional would have made sure the storage area was empty, even if he’d had to squat in the helpfully-dark corridor leading to it for hours. So that seemed to rule out robbery for hire, unless someone dumb had set themselves up as a pro without the requisite brainpower to make it work. Possible, but not that likely—dumb criminals tended to spend more time in jail than out of it, after all. 

That left the amateurs. Jack considered the likely suspects for a moment, running through the list of people Daniel had mentioned, as he waited for room service to arrive—the rest of the faculty, the archivist and the janitorial staff. Any of whom could be having cash problems and look to the storage area as a good source of relatively untraceable items that could be sold on the black market for ready cash. But again, why take the risk of assaulting Professor Jackson and stealing such a distinctive thing as the canopic jar?

That whole area must be crammed with items just as saleable but much less noteworthy. Things that had been sitting in storage since Jackson himself was a child and which therefore wouldn’t be missed anytime soon. But instead, our thief decides to commit a crime while someone’s there, assaulting that someone and then absconding with an item that’s apparently unique and so much more difficult to dispose of without a trace. 

Maybe Jackson had been lucky, though. Someone stupid enough to try and steal from the storage area when he was there was probably stupid enough to panic and lash out, killing anyone unlucky enough to get in their way. Jack suppressed the coldness that swept through him at that thought—it was just as likely he could have been coming here in the wake of Jackson’s death, that he might never have met the man and would instead be dealing with his successor, whoever that might be. 

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Jack pulled his weapon, more from experience and habit than any real thought someone would try to attack him here, and crossed quietly over to the door. 

“Room service,” a voice said, from outside. Jack cracked the door a little, then holstered his weapon as he saw a uniformed waiter outside, complete with tray.

Once the waiter had deposited his tray and left, now holding a hefty tip, Jack tried to retrace his mental steps. Jackson could have been killed, that was where he’d got to. Of course, Jack decided, as he stabbed his fork viciously into a pile of green beans, that assumed robbery was the motive and not the opportunity to attack Professor Jackson himself. 

He didn’t have much confidence that the police would have investigated that angle, even if they’d thought of it in the first place. Who would have the most to gain from Jackson being out of the picture? While he didn’t know much about how the academic world worked, Jack knew a little about the problem of tenure and the fact that ambition was ambition, whether the thing that was being produced at the end of the day was cars, drugs or degree-clutching students. 

Jackson was relatively young for such a powerful position, so there was probably someone out there who was holding a grudge against him; that person might just be holding a canopic jar as well.

\----------------------

In hindsight, Daniel decided he probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Colonel O’Neill was waiting for him when he got to work the following morning, or that the colonel’s sharp brown eyes noticed the box he was carrying when he arrived.

“You’re up early, Colonel,” Daniel said, unlocking his office. This morning, he’d transferred his files into a backpack, so there was no unseemly juggling of stuff outside the office door that would necessitate O’Neill intervening. “I thought I made myself clear yesterday.”

Daniel headed into the office, letting the door swing closed. As he’d thought would be the case, O’Neill followed him in, and then unexpectedly turned to close the door quietly after him. Isobel wouldn’t be in for a while, Daniel recalled as he glanced at the clock—she’d told him yesterday that she had a dentist appointment—so that just left the two of them for at least the next hour. 

“You did,” O’Neill said, settling comfortably into the chair he’d occupied the previous day. “But I don’t give up easy.”

Daniel deposited the box on the corner of his desk, aware that the colonel’s eyes rested on it rather than him. Somehow, he felt cheated by this, as if it was proof that, as he’d suspected yesterday, O’Neill was far more interested in the canopic jar than he was in its owner. That rankled, even though there was no reason it should—he didn’t know O’Neill from a hole in the ground, after all, so why should he get upset that the other man wasn’t interested in him?

“If you could give me a straight answer,” Daniel said, “things might be different.”

O’Neill’s attention was on him now and, against his will, Daniel felt his face warm a little. Damn it, was he getting turned on by this guy after all? There was no call to be blushing like a teenager just because O’Neill was looking at him, even if the expression on O’Neill’s face reminded him more than anything of a dog looking at a bone. 

“I can go one better than that,” O’Neill said. “I can show you why that jar is so important.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the box. “But I have to be sure that it goes no further than the two of us.” He fixed Daniel with an appropriately stern look, the effect of which was a little defeated by what Daniel thought he saw in O’Neill’s eyes. “And I also have a theory,” O’Neill continued. “But for that, I expect you need coffee and I see there’s no sign of your secretary.”

“Isobel will be in later.” 

“So, I suggest we take a little trip,” O’Neill continued, as smoothly as if Daniel hadn’t even spoken. “In search of caffeine. You can bring the box.” O’Neill stood. “In fact, you probably should bring it, since I guess you’re right not to let it out of your sight.”

Daniel felt his face warm even more at the tacit approval of the previous night’s paranoia, even as he chided himself for reacting at all. For all he knew, O’Neill intended to use whatever underhanded tactic was necessary to get hold of the canopic jar and just wanted to get him somewhere less public to do so. However, the siren call of caffeine was a little too much to resist, in the absence of Isobel and her patented brew-of-death; Daniel had come to rely on that, in the mornings, a little more than he would like to admit to anyone. 

“I could do with some coffee,” he agreed, after a moment’s thought. Daniel snagged the box, and then started to fish in the backpack for his wallet and keys. 

“My treat, Professor,” O’Neill said. “And your keys are on the desk.”

O’Neill held the box while Daniel locked his office door once more, then handed it back solemnly without a word. Daniel followed him then, out of the building that housed his office and across the quadrangle—instead of heading for the nearest café, he found himself following Colonel O’Neill on a more circuitous route. 

“Worried someone’s following you?” Daniel asked, when O’Neill paused at a place where two paths crossed. 

To anyone else, O’Neill would have looked like he was lost, but Daniel wasn’t fooled. He had no doubt that the colonel knew exactly where he was going, had probably checked out the route in advance, and was just using this opportunity to scope the surroundings. And if it also had the benefit of putting one Professor Jackson off-guard, O’Neill would doubtless consider that a bonus. 

“Us,” O’Neill said. “Following us.” He turned to look at Jackson as he spoke. “You’re the one with the box.”

Daniel felt himself tense at the quietly spoken words. There was no artifice apparent in them, though he still harbored some suspicion about O’Neill’s motives, but they chilled him to the bone. 

“No sense standing here, then,” Daniel said, leading the way into the nearest building that he knew for certain had a café inside. The university was littered with them, multiple sources for students and faculty alike to get their caffeine fix, and O’Neill wasn’t the only one who knew his way around.

\----------------------

He’d bought the two of them some coffee and then Jack chose a table where he could sit with his back to a wall. There was a free chair between him and Professor Jackson, and the professor had placed the box with the canopic jar there—Jackson still had one proprietary hand resting on it, as if he expected Jack to just grab the box and run. That was always a possibility, of course, and Jack figured he’d have a reasonable chance of getting away with it as well, but he preferred to leave that kind of dramatics for a last resort.

“You said you had a theory,” Jackson began, as he stirred his coffee. 

He didn’t look up, focused intently on the motion of the spoon, and Jack wondered for a moment what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such focus. That was one thing about Jackson, he decided—whatever he did, he gave it all his attention, and that made the other man even more enticing than Jack had found him before. 

“I do.” Jack continued to watch him, without speaking, until the professor looked up. “Is there anyone in the faculty who’d have a reason to carry a grudge against you?” Jackson’s eyes widened at the question and Jack could tell he’d not given that possibility any consideration. 

“You think someone I know is behind all this?” Professor Jackson asked. “That the robbery was just a diversion for someone wanting to crack me over the head?”

“It’s a possibility.” Jack hated to point it out, but since Jackson clearly hadn’t given the idea any thought before now, it was clear the police were unlikely to have followed that possibility either. Or if they had, then they hadn’t mentioned it to Jackson. “Cui bono, and all that jazz. Hey, what can I say?” Jack continued, when Jackson’s expression turned quizzical at his apparently unexpected use of Latin. “I watch _Law and Order_.”

“I admit, I hadn’t considered that angle,” Jackson said. He looked thoughtful as he drank some coffee. “Academia is hardly cutthroat most of the time, but passions can run high if someone thinks they’ve been overlooked or slighted.” He looked down at the box. “That doesn’t make this jar any less valuable, though.”

“Where did they come from?” Jack asked. It seemed like a good idea to change the subject, now that he’d given Jackson food for thought on possible motive, and where better than the other hot topic between them? “The jars.”

“Originally? No idea.” Jackson looked up, his expression less troubled now as he slipped back into professorial mode, and Jack felt himself relax as well. “They were part of a bequest to the university and there’s no information about their provenance.”

“Provenance?” So, okay he was playing dumb, but what harm could it do? “What’s that?”

“Where they came from, the chain of possession if you’re looking for more _Law and Order_ -related metaphors. Who dug them up and where, whose hands they passed into after that—basically, how they got from there to here.” 

So, this was probably what Professor Jackson looked like when he was lecturing on a subject he knew well—eyes bright with interest, determined that the audience capture some of that interest as well. Jack would bet a year’s pay that his classes were always packed, if the students had any functioning brain cells. Jack knew he would have been there, whether it was his subject or not, if there had been any lecturers with this animation when he’d been in college. 

“Is that common?” Jack asked, though he figured he probably already knew the answer to that. 

“Not as much as you’d think. Or at least, not where commonplace objects are concerned, but something like these jars? They’re unique enough that they could have come from a tomb we have no information on, dug up with the sole intention of reselling them.” He looked down at the box again. “No way of telling where they came from, or if there are others like them out there. After all, canopic jars usually come in sets of four.”

That was something Rothman hadn’t mentioned. Could there possibly be two more jars out there like this, in the hands of people who had no idea of their real value?

“I need whatever information you have, Professor,” Jack said. He leaned forward, resting his crossed arms on the table in front of him. “And I promise to explain fully if you’ll cooperate.”

Professor Jackson seemed to ponder that for a moment, his desire to control the situation at war with his curiosity. As Jack had expected, curiosity seemed to be by far the stronger of the two and it didn’t take long before it was clear that his need to know more had triumphed. 

“All right,” he said, finally. “I have the jar, of course. Whatever notes have been taken in respect of this one and the other. And the photographs.”

“Photographs?” Jack wondered how high his eyebrows had risen at that last comment, even as he echoed it. “You never said anything about photographs.”

“You never asked,” Jackson replied, with an unexpectedly sly grin.


	2. Chapter 2

This was all a little bit too cloak and dagger for Daniel, but if it prevented him getting cracked on the head again—for whatever reason it had happened last time around—he was all for it. And at least the coffee had been good, a fresh pot if he didn’t miss his guess.

Now they were back in his office, Colonel O’Neill back in the visitor’s chair and leafing through the photographs Daniel had taken of the missing canopic jar while Daniel himself was making arrangements to go out of town. Where they were going, Daniel wasn’t completely sure and the colonel had been less than forthcoming on the subject.

“We’ll be back before you know it, Professor,” was all Daniel had managed to get out of him. “But you probably ought to bring your passport,” he’d added. “Just in case.”

It was idiotic, to be doing this midway through the semester when there was so much else he ought to be doing, but somehow Daniel was certain that going along with whatever harebrained scheme Colonel O’Neill had in mind was the right thing to do. If he’d been asked to explain why, he would have struggled to articulate it, but there was something about O’Neill that he instinctively trusted. Even against his own better judgment, which was saying something. 

Isobel, on her return from the dentist, had been less than impressed by the list of things to do that Daniel was currently dictating to her, but she didn’t need to say so in order for Daniel to get the message. That disapproval was coming through loud and clear regardless. 

What’s going on, Daniel?” The door to his office had just opened, no warning knock beforehand, and the person who’d spoken was already halfway across to his desk before she’d finished speaking. 

“Dr. Sarah Gardner, Colonel Jack O’Neill,” Daniel said, gesturing momentarily toward where O’Neill sat, and then turning his attention back to the scowling Isobel. “I think that’s it for now,” he concluded. “I’ll give you a contact number as soon as I know where I’m going to be staying.” Daniel glanced across at O’Neill, but the colonel was paying him no attention—or at least nothing in comparison to the attention he was currently paying to Sarah.

“And what do you do, Dr. Gardner?” O’Neill was asking. Daniel could read Sarah like a book, since they’d known one another long enough for that to be no real chore, and she wasn’t impressed. 

“Daniel?”

“I’m taking a trip, Sarah,” Daniel said, half his attention on her and the other half on Isobel as she headed toward the office door, disapproval hanging round her like a dark cloud. He’d have to bring her something back, if he was going to get back on her good side any time this century. “Short notice.”

“I can see that.” Sarah was studiously ignoring O’Neill, who was almost openly eyeing her up, and for some reason that annoyed Daniel more than he could have explained. “Together? But isn’t this a little unexpected?”

“You said it, Doc,” O’Neill interrupted. “And we have a lot to do, so if you’ve interrupted us for a reason …”

Sarah turned on O’Neill then, furious, but whatever words had been on the tip of her tongue apparently just died there when she saw the way O’Neill was looking at her now. Not openly appraising or admiring, as he had been and as Sarah was more than a little used to, but cold as an arctic glacier and just as forgiving. Once Daniel would have said it would take a better man than him to make Sarah Gardner back down when she had built up a head of steam, but maybe he’d finally met that better man?

Instead of replying, Sarah settled for stalking toward the door and out into the corridor. O’Neill had half-turned in his seat to watch her leave, but now Daniel didn’t feel quite so annoyed about that. As much as Sarah usually liked to have the last word in any argument, it was amusing to see her bested by anyone—it had been a long time since Daniel had managed to summon up the effort required to make sure that someone was him.

“We likely to get a visit from anyone else I should know about?” O’Neill asked, turning his attention back to Daniel. He was still holding the folder full of photographs. “Other former flames, I mean.” Daniel felt his face heat, even though the clarification hadn’t held any condemnation, just curiosity. “Sorry, Doc,” O’Neill continued, after he’d let Daniel squirm for a moment. “None of my business.” He paused, looked down at the photographs and then up again. “Unless she was the one who tried to split your head open, of course.”

Denial was there, ready to be spoken—Daniel wanted to defend Sarah, tell this newcomer that she’d been his friend for years and she would never … but he really couldn’t be sure, could he? Through the academic grapevine, which was rarely wrong, he remembered hearing that Sarah had complained when he’d been chosen over her for his current position. Bitterly, if the gossip was to be believed, saying that Daniel was poorly qualified for a job with such responsibility. He’d tried to forget the rumor, but had he been right to do so?  
“I guess Sarah is on the list, after all,” Daniel said, reluctantly. “Along with someone you haven’t met—Dr. Steven Rayner.”

“The list of exes or the list of people who’d like to rearrange your brains?” O’Neill asked, as he replaced the photographs in their buff folder and handed them back to Daniel. “Assuming those are two different lists after all.”

Daniel turned, using the excuse of putting the folder of photographs into his backpack to hide his reaction to that. Was the colonel really scoping out his former relationships or was it just an innocent question about possible suspects Daniel was misinterpreting as interest? He couldn’t be sure, and a misstep could cost him dearly, in more ways than one.

“I was never involved with Sarah that way, Colonel,” Daniel began. He busied himself closing the backpack, struggling as usual with one of the catches, which just wouldn’t seem to align properly. “Steven, that’s another matter.” He didn’t look up, uncertain what reaction he’d see in O’Neill’s face and equally uncertain what reaction he wanted to see. 

When he did look up from the backpack, finally closed, O’Neill’s face was impassive, unreadable. 

“I thought I told you already, Doc,” O’Neill said, after what felt like a lifetime’s silence between them. “My name’s Jack.”

The tension slid out of the room, leaving Daniel feeling boneless in its wake. 

“Daniel,” he said, since it seemed like the right reaction to that renewed offering of greater intimacy between them, even if it was just in the form of friendship. “I think you should be calling me Daniel, not ‘Doc.’ ”

“Sure thing, Daniel,” O’Neill said. “And now we really should get the hell out of Dodge.”

\-----------------------

That had gone much better than expected, Jack decided, as he led the way to the parking lot. Considering how he and Professor Jackson—Daniel, he corrected himself—had initially butted heads, Jack had been uncertain if he’d ever get the professor to cooperate at all, let alone agree to come along with him on such a flimsy premise.

He’d told Daniel very little, and yet the other man seemed to trust him and be prepared to tag along anyway. For now, at least. 

That probably spoke volumes about how Daniel was, and if the lovely but annoyed Dr. Gardner was anything to go by, Jack was pretty certain other people would find it annoying. Particularly people who carried a grudge in the first place, because they thought Daniel had got something they deserved more. Ambition was ambition, whether it was working itself out in the boardroom or the lecture hall. 

Gardner had been a piece of work, though, walking right into Daniel’s office like she owned the place and he owed her an explanation for whatever it was he was planning to do. If they hadn’t been involved, and he had no reason to believe that Daniel wasn’t being scrupulously honest when he’d said that wasn’t the case, she had even less right to be told what was going on. Except that her pretty face and great figure had probably got her further than other people in the past and she was used to being humored because of it. 

“I’ll follow you back to your place,” Jack said, heading for the rental car he’d parked a couple of spaces away from Daniel’s own. For a successful professor, Daniel drove a real clunker and he wanted to be sure that the other man got back to his place and didn’t end up by the roadside waiting for help. 

“Don’t we need to go to wherever you’re staying?” Daniel asked, as he opened the driver side door.

“No need,” Jack said, patting the trunk. “Everything I brought with me is in here.”

He followed Daniel out of the parking lot, careful not to let his rental get too close. If there was one thing Jack was pretty certain of, it was that he couldn’t be certain how Daniel drove, and until he was, he was going to keep his distance. If he was one of those guys who slammed the brakes on at the last moment, trusting more to luck than the laws of physics, Jack had no intention of losing out because of clashing fenders. Even if it was Uncle Sam’s dime at the end of the day, not his, it was the principle of the thing. 

As he’d expected, Daniel was a little more reckless as a driver than Jack would have liked, and the way he drove made Jack wonder where he’d learned. If anything, it reminded him of the way people drove in the Middle East, without much apparent thought for the welfare of anyone else, and it was more than possible Daniel had picked up a bad habit or ten over in that part of the world. 

Still, they managed to make it to Daniel’s apartment building without anything other than a squeal of brakes at an intersection from someone who’d misjudged how fast Daniel was driving, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the junker pull up alongside the curb. He knew where Daniel lived, of course, because that had been part of the dossier Jack had been given on the other man, but experience had taught him that things like that had a tendency to freak out civilians and the less said the better. 

He got out and strolled across the quiet road to where Daniel was getting out of his car. 

“Want me to come with?” he asked. Daniel shook his head. “Let me have the box, Daniel. I promise I won’t make a break for it …” Jack reached out and took the box from Daniel’s hands—Daniel looked, at first, as though he was going to protest and then apparently changed his mind.

“Give me ten minutes,” Daniel said. 

He disappeared into the building as Jack returned to his rental, placing the box carefully beside him on the passenger seat. Jack resisted the urge to open it up and check if it really held the canopic jar. He had no reason to think Daniel was playing him that way, and those kinds of suspicions tended to lead to problems later on down the road. 

He had to trust Daniel some time, so it might as well be now. Of course, if the ten minutes came and went and Daniel didn’t come out of his apartment, that might be another matter.

\-----------------------

Because of his experience in packing for archaeological digs, it didn’t take Daniel long to get together what he needed—ten minutes was ample time for that, all things considered. 

Down there on the street, he’d handed over the box with the jar to Jack without protest and trusted him not to take off, even before he’d made a joke about it. In fact, it was because Jack had joked about it that Daniel had decided he could be trusted. He had this feeling that Jack was one of those people who wouldn’t joke about something like that, he’d just be gone by the time Daniel got back to the car. 

Or Jack could have joined the line of people who wanted to bash him over the head and that would have surely been much simpler than whatever it was Daniel was going to find out shortly. 

Daniel wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or annoyed when Jack’s only reaction to his reappearance was saying that they’d need to go in his rental.

“What’s wrong with my car?” he asked.

Jack just looked at him for a moment, as if wondering where the second head had come from. Okay, so his car was nearing the end of its life, but it had seen him through some rough times and been reliable in the worst winters Chicago could throw at it, and you couldn’t ask more from any vehicle than that.

“Life’s too short to go into that,” Jack said. “Get in.” 

He reached over, picking up the box with the jar from the passenger seat and putting it into the foot well behind. Daniel opened the rear door on the passenger side, dropping his bags onto the backseat. He knew how to pack light, from years of experience, and he expected that when Jack got his own stuff out of the trunk neither of them would have all that much luggage to show for their trip.

“Mind telling me where we’re going?” Daniel asked. He’d barely begun to buckle his seatbelt before Jack had them pulling out smoothly into traffic, headed for the outskirts of the city. “O’Hare is the other way.”

“Military airport,” Jack said. “There’s a flight waiting for us, so we’d better not keep them waiting.”

“A flight where?” Daniel watched Jack’s profile as he drove. As he could probably have predicted, Jack was a cautious driver; it seemed as though he was keeping an eye out for a possible tail while also avoiding the worst of the Illinois drivers. “You never said.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jack agreed. “Let’s just say we’re going to Colorado, and leave it at that for now.”

“Colorado?” Daniel echoed. “What’s in Colorado?”

Jack glanced at him and he decided it was probably a good idea to shut up, at least for now—it was clear that was all he was going to get where the subject of where they were headed was concerned. 

“Don’t look so worried,” Jack said, after they’d driven in slightly awkward silence for about fifteen minutes. “I checked you out—you have the right security clearance, so there’s no problem with you tagging along.”

Daniel looked sharply at Jack then, wondering what the hell he’d got himself into. He’d been approached a couple of years ago, by a lady who said her name was Catherine Langford and she’d talked about security clearance as well—she’d offered him a job, on his way out of the auditorium where he’d been down to give a lecture, but all Daniel could remember was brushing her off in his haste. 

That had been the afternoon he’d found out about Professor Jordan’s heart attack, and after that everything had pretty much spiraled out of control for a couple of months. Once the dust had settled, Daniel had found himself in a tenured position at last, having promised to set his own work aside and concentrate on something a little more mainstream. He hadn’t even thought about Catherine Langford and her abortive offer again, or at least not till now. 

“Do you know someone called Langford?” Daniel asked. He saw Jack stiffen in response to the question and realized he’d been right to put two and two together this time around. Whatever it was she’d been approaching him for, this was connected somehow. “Catherine Langford,” he continued. “Nice older lady, I met her a few years back.”

\-----------------------

It had taken all Jack’s self-control not to drive the car off the road when Daniel had asked him about Catherine. Of all the questions the professor could have asked, that was the one he’d least expected and so he didn’t have a ready answer lined up for it. Was it possible? Could Professor Daniel Jackson really be the geeky genius Catherine had been trying to hire a few years back, when her plans had come to nothing? 

It would explain all sorts of things, but somehow all Jack could think about was about the opportunities he’d missed—what would his life have been like if it had been Jackson he was working with all the time instead of Rothman?

“And I guess you’re going to tell me you know a guy called Rothman too?” Jack asked, even as he was wondering what the odds were of hooking the very guy that Catherine Langford had failed to get on board. Whatever reason Daniel had a couple of years ago for not taking the bait, Jack had him well and truly landed now. “Geeky guy, bad sinus problems.”

“Robert Rothman?” Daniel asked. “Of course I know him. I helped him with his dissertation, back when I was a grad student.”

If they hadn’t been driving, Jack would have wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel. It looked as though academia was just as close-knit a community as the military, and he’d forgotten that. Of course, Rothman would know Jackson, and vice versa—they were in the same line of work, after all. Even if Rothman had apparently been the second-string replacement for the man who was currently sitting in the passenger seat beside him. 

“Well,” Jack began, “if you’d taken up Catherine’s offer, I guess we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.”

Daniel shrugged. “As much as I dislike the Chicago winters, I like the place. I can’t imagine living in Colorado.”

In the distance, Jack could see the checkpoint for the military airstrip and he concentrated on that, rather than taking the time to correct Daniel’s assumptions. Over to the left were a series of large hangars, one of which probably held the plane that was waiting for them. This time around, Jack had persuaded General Hammond to pull rank, organizing something especially for him and Daniel rather than taking their chances on getting seats for the regular run between the air bases at Scott and Peterson air bases. 

In a matter of minutes they were at the checkpoint, Jack slowing the car obediently when the MPs manning the gate stepped out of the small booth in which they’d been sheltering. 

“You should be expecting us,” Jack said, as he handed one of the MPs his Air Force ID. 

“Yes, sir,” the MP said, straightening up. “If you could drive round to the hangar, sir—your car will be returned to the rental agency for you.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Jack said, and then once the barrier had been raised, he headed the car in the direction the MP had indicated.

“We were expected?” Daniel asked, twisting in his seat to look back at the MPs. Jack didn’t need to look to know that the two men had headed back into the booth—it wasn’t like this was the easiest place to sneak up on, after all, so they’d see a car coming from a good distance. “When did you have time to arrange all this, or were you that confident I’d go along with your plans?”

“Yes,” Jack replied, stifling a grin at Daniel’s expense. 

Every instinct told him to let the guy stew, particularly since he’d dropped a major surprise in Jack’s lap in the last few miles, a surprise he really needed to think about. If Daniel was the genius Catherine had tried to recruit, Jack had definitely done the right thing in reeling him in along with the box and its contents—it was more than possible there were other ways in which Professor Jackson could help the project, if he had a mind to. 

Within a matter of minutes, Jack had parked the car, got Daniel heading in the right direction with his small amount of luggage, extracted his own from the rental’s trunk and the two of them were embarking onto a small plane. It looked like he and Daniel were the only passengers, not that there was much room for anyone else. He didn’t want to think what kind of strings Hammond had pulled, but he couldn’t fault the general’s ability to get what he needed in record time. 

Daniel didn’t look particularly comfortable, as he rummaged through first his pockets and then the backpack for something or other.

“Problem?” Jack asked. He had to half-yell the question over the roar of the engines starting up.

“No,” Daniel replied, waving the blister pack of medication he’d apparently located in the most recent pocket searched. “Not any more.”

Jack tried to settle back into his seat, but still keeping half an eye on his fellow passenger. The noise meant there was no chance of any conversation between now and Colorado, and suddenly Jack wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. Daniel had given him a lot to think about, whether he knew it or not, and when they got to Colorado Jack was more than certain he would be returning the favor.

\-----------------------

The travel sickness pills had helped Daniel doze, despite the noise of the plane, and when he woke they were beginning the descent to some Air Force base or other. Whatever was nearest wherever they were headed in Colorado, he guessed, though he didn’t have a clue what their final destination might be. Jack was looking out of the window and Daniel took the opportunity to watch him unobserved, wishing he found flying quite as relaxing as the colonel apparently did. Maybe he was a pilot as well, that was a strong possibility for an officer in the Air Force, wasn’t it?

Whatever Jack O’Neill had done in the past, it sounded now like there was a possibility they could have met before, if Daniel had only taken the job he’d been offered. It was a close run thing as well, he remembered. He’d been ready to give his lecture, despite Professor Jordan remonstrating with him about the potential it held for the death of his reputation in academic circles—but he’d been right, and at the time that had been more important than anything else. His reputation had meant nothing in comparison to that, even though Daniel knew it was clearly possible he’d never actually be able to prove how accurate his theories were. 

And then the news had come, the message about the professor’s heart attack, and thoughts of anything else had fled Daniel’s mind. He owed Professor Jordan, for much more than just his mentorship when he was a student—the professor had pretty much taken him in when Daniel’s uncle had disappeared, and so he owed him more than just the respect of a fellow academic. That was why, Daniel supposed, he’d been unable to refuse the professor anything, including putting his crackpot theories aside for the sake of what the professor had wanted more than anything, a surrogate son to follow in his footsteps.

Steven had expressed his opinion on the subject more than once, in words that Daniel wished he couldn’t remember. He’d voiced the opinion that Daniel being offered the professorship he’d ultimately accepted was no more than nepotism, even though Daniel himself was certain he’d worked at least as hard as anyone else. 

The problem with Steven—one of a long line of problems, if he looked at the subject of his former lover objectively, which Daniel rarely had the patience to do—was that he couldn’t believe that anyone was even as able as he was. So anything someone else got was due to underhanded behavior somehow, since he couldn’t entertain the possibility they might have earned a promotion, or a place on an editorial committee, on the strength of their own abilities. In short, Steven was bitter about everyone else’s success and his own relative failures, and didn’t care who knew it. 

In hindsight, Daniel was more than a little surprised he’d tolerated Steven for as long as he had, except that Steven had been there and that was something in his favor. Probably the only thing, if Daniel was brutally honest with himself, and the thought made him shudder a little. 

Daniel realized suddenly that Jack was looking at him, aware of his scrutiny, and he looked down, embarrassed at being caught out. He didn’t often get the opportunity to meet eligible men, since the pool of possibilities at the university was quite small, other than students who were, obviously, utterly out of bounds. It was still a novelty for Daniel to be sharing a trip with someone who had any interest in him, even if it eventually turned out to be just platonic.

“Penny for them?” Jack asked. Daniel looked up, seeing the grin on Jack’s face, and felt himself relax in response to the expression. “But try not to blind me with science.”

“I’m an archaeologist, Jack,” Daniel said. “So I think you’re safe.”

Jack looked out of the window again, a brief glance this time around.

“We’re coming in to land,” he said. “Next stop, Peterson Air Force Base.”

“And then where?” Daniel asked. Jack had turned back to look at him. “You just said ‘Colorado’ and it’s a pretty big state.”

“Cheyenne Mountain,” Jack replied. “And it’s a pretty big mountain.”

\-----------------------

As he’d expected, Jack found a car waiting for them at Peterson, with an airman standing beside it who watched them disembark and then hastened forward to take their bags. The only thing Daniel wouldn’t give him was the box with the canopic jar, and Jack had to intervene briefly to smooth ruffled feathers on both sides. In the end, the two of them were soon seated in the back of the car, the box lying on the seat between them, Daniel’s hand resting protectively on it as they sped towards Cheyenne Mountain. 

Jack was amused by Daniel’s response, though he had to admit he was also a little impressed by it. Here was a man, an academic at heart, taken from his usual environment and dropped into the middle of the military mindset and he didn’t seem fazed at all. If roles had been reversed, Jack wasn’t sure he would have been anything like as calm and collected.

This time, when they reached the checkpoint, the airmen didn’t even bother to ask for his ID, just looked in through the rolled-down window and then waved the car on. 

“My bags,” Daniel said, as Jack got out of the car behind him. 

“Leave them.” Jack took hold of Daniel’s sleeve, tugging him gently towards the elevator, and it only took a couple of steps before Daniel came along without any further protest. “The airman will bring them in.”

“This really is ‘how the other half live,’ ” Daniel said, as the two of them stepped into the brushed steel elevator and the door slid soundlessly closed. “Hey, are we really going up that many levels?” he continued, when Jack pressed the button for level twenty-eight. 

“Not up,” Jack said, as the elevator began to move. “Down.”

“Down?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could see Daniel gripping the box a little tighter, his arms wrapping around it now as if a couple of thousand years old jar could protect him from the unknown. “I probably should have taken another Dramamine.”

Despite that comment, which made Jack keep an eye on the color of Daniel’s complexion, the trip down happened without a hitch. The door slid open again, the usual hive of industry in a well-lit concrete corridor drawing Daniel out of the elevator car in curiosity, as Jack had expected it would. 

“What is this place?” Daniel asked, turning in place where he stood, a couple of steps away from the elevator. 

Around him, the usual traffic of the base eddied like water round a rock—they were used to geeks and their odd ways, after all, Jack reminded himself. And the people at Cheyenne Mountain had no reason to think this geek was any different from the others they’d already met, or at least, not yet. 

“Cheyenne Mountain, Professor Jackson,” a new voice said. 

As Jack had expected, it was General Hammond. Of course, Daniel couldn’t know what an honor it was, a two-star general leaving his office solely for the purpose of greeting their visitor, but Jack was certainly aware of what it meant. Hammond was already convinced, from what he knew and what Jack had told him, that Daniel was going to be important to the project and he wanted to get things off on the right foot. Hammond was a man who believed in getting the details right. 

“I’m General Hammond,” the general continued, offering his hand. Daniel juggled the box, shifting his grip on it until he could take Hammond’s hand. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, General,” Daniel said. “I’d say I was glad to be here, if I knew where here was, or indeed why I’ve come.”

Jack tried to look innocent, even though he knew the chance of Hammond buying that was slim.

“I had hoped Colonel O’Neill would have given you enough information to understand that, Professor,” Hammond said, glancing at Jack momentarily. “And since you’re here …”

“Oh, I think I probably knew enough to pique my interest,” Daniel said. 

Jack could have sworn Daniel knew how he was squirming, as well as the potential for Hammond to take him to task later over this, and was enjoying the idea of both. That innocent expression wasn’t fooling Jack O’Neill, even if Daniel already seemed to have the general suckered with those baby blues. Not that he could blame Hammond too much, considering that Jack himself could hardly claim to be immune himself; that was something he was going to have to learn if Daniel was going to be around the place for a while.

“Well, whatever the situation,” Hammond was saying, as Jack focused on the conversation, “we’re glad to have you, Professor.” He half-turned to Jack, who straightened instinctively. “Colonel, would you show our guest to the VIP quarters?”

“Yes, sir.” Jack watched Hammond leave, and then turned to where Daniel was still standing. “Coffee first?” he asked. “Or we could visit Rothman. Your choice.”

He watched Daniel consider that, uncertain what the other man would choose. When he’d first met the guy, Jack would have put money on him choosing Rothman, considering they’d apparently known each other for a while, but then he’d seen the way Daniel was with caffeine.

“How’s the coffee?” Daniel asked, after he’d given the choice a moment’s consideration. 

“Better where the geeks…” Jack stuttered to a halt, though he could see Daniel was amused rather than angry. “I should say, I can guarantee one thing—where Rothman is, the coffee will be better than what passes for it in the commissary.”

“Rothman it is, then,” Daniel said. “Lead on.”

\-----------------------

Daniel followed Jack through the concrete labyrinth, wondering just how far it extended under the mountain. He still didn’t know why he was there, or what the Air Force expected from him, but for some reason that didn’t seem to matter quite as much right now. Daniel was oddly certain, though he couldn’t have explained why, that when he needed to know what was going on, Jack would tell him. And if not Jack, then that nice General Hammond he’d just met, who seemed like a good enough sort. 

Not that Daniel had all that much experience where Air Force officers were concerned, but Hammond had an honest face and had seemed genuinely pleased to see him; when he was in a fish-out-of-water place like this, Daniel was going to accept all the reassurance he could find. 

There were colored strips on the floor, and after a moment Daniel realized they were probably one way of navigating this place. After all, the corners and corridors all pretty much looked the same and it would be quicker than checking the numbers on the doors, which were all identical too. 

“How long has Robert worked here?” Daniel asked, glad to have found a subject that sounded like he was interested—which he was—but didn’t sound like he was pushing for information they weren’t ready to give him yet. 

“Just over a year,” Jack said. “And no, I don’t know what he did before he came here. The general is in charge of hiring and firing.”

It didn’t take someone who’d met Jack O’Neill that long to hear the unspoken “thank god” that he didn’t attach to the previous sentence. Daniel couldn’t help but sympathize, since what little experience he’d had of the same subject hadn’t been exactly a walk in the park. He’d been incredibly lucky with Isobel, but she was the best of the bunch by a long way and her predecessor had been something of a nightmare—when she’d told Daniel she was emigrating to New Zealand it had been all he could do not to hang out the flags. 

“And can you tell me what he does here?” Daniel asked. “Or is it classified?” He caught the look Jack threw in his direction. “Oops. I said the c-word, didn’t I?”

“Translation.” 

They’d reached the latest in a long line of identical doors, at the end of a passage that could have been one of a dozen they’d traveled—for all Daniel knew, Jack had taken him in a complete circle and he was right back at where they’d started. It was all he could do not to look round for the elevator, which would prove that suspicion.

“Translation?” Daniel echoed. “Translation of what?”

Jack didn’t answer, just opened the door by which they’d stopped. From inside, the smell of good coffee emerged, as did the off-key drone of Robert Rothman humming, a sound Daniel hadn’t ever expected to hear again. He remembered that sound, though it had been a number of years since he’d heard it last, the annoying sound that Rothman made when he was concentrating just a little too hard—he was oblivious to it, but it drove anyone within earshot crazy in a matter of minutes.

Daniel took a couple of steps forward, into the room, drawn as much by the coffee as the idea of meeting up with someone who’d pretty much been the only person he knew who’d given his crackpot ideas any credence. He didn’t notice, till the door shut again, that Jack was on the other side and he wondered just exactly what that meant.

\-----------------------

Touching as he expected the geek reunion would be, Jack had decided not to stick around for it. As he headed back toward Hammond’s office, certain the general would be expecting him, Jack told himself that it wasn’t because he was sure Daniel would be more pleased to spend time with Rothman, someone like himself, than he would with Jack—that wasn’t it at all. Because, if it was, that would mean he was jealous, and jealous of Rothman of all people, which was a possibility that hardly bore thinking about. 

It was only natural that Daniel and Rothman would have a lot in common, Jack reminded himself. In hindsight maybe it wasn’t that good an idea to leave the two of them alone so early in the game—Rothman had a somewhat fast and loose approach to military protocol, after all—but Jack was pretty certain Rothman wouldn’t say more than he was supposed to. He had the fear of O’Neill to rely on, after all, and Rothman had been here long enough to know better than to cross him on something so important. 

It was curious, though. Rothman knew that the stolen canopic jar came from the Oriental Institute, and from what little Jack knew about academics, they kept track of one another’s movements. Yet he hadn’t said anything about knowing Professor Jackson, or even offered to get in touch with him to ease Jack’s future dealings with him. That was a little odd, considering that the way Daniel had spoken about him didn’t seem to indicate they’d parted on bad terms. 

Jack knocked briskly on General Hammond’s office door, entering when he heard the general’s almost-immediate summons. 

“Professor Jackson seems cooperative,” Hammond said, looking up from the report he’d been reading when Jack arrived. 

“He doesn’t know the full situation yet, sir,” Jack said. “I wanted to get him here first, not scare him off with some science fiction scenario.”

“Quite.” Hammond looked contemplative and Jack knew better than to interrupt him, so he waited. “I suggest you enlighten the professor, Colonel,” he continued, after a moment’s thought. “And don’t leave him with Dr. Rothman too long—we don’t want bad habits rubbing off on him this early on.”

Jack took that for the dismissal it clearly was, and Hammond was reading his report once more before the colonel had even left the room.

\-----------------------

Daniel couldn’t decide whether Robert had been more surprised or pleased to see him, but after some consideration he decided surprise had won the day. He’d happily accepted the excellent coffee Robert had pressed on him, sipping gratefully at the mug as he was brought up to date with Robert’s career so far. Not that Daniel could figure out just how it was that Dr. Rothman came to be working for the Air Force, and every time Robert came close to that particular area in any way, the change of subject was enough to give them both whiplash.

He was almost absurdly glad when the door opened and Jack sauntered in, though he told himself that was because it was another familiar face in a strange environment. 

“Coffee, Colonel?” Robert asked, halfway to the coffee machine even as he spoke. “You know you want to.” Was it Daniel’s imagination, or did the question seem a little forced? It certainly wasn’t spontaneous, though Robert had moved almost quickly enough to make it seem like it was. 

“No thanks,” Jack replied. “And we have places to go and people to see,” he continued, turning to where Daniel sat. Jack reached out and took the almost-empty mug from Daniel’s hands, placing it on a nearby table.

“Looks like that’s my cue,” Daniel said, getting up from his chair. “I’ll see you around, Robert.”

“You can bet on it.”

Obediently, Daniel picked up the box with the canopic jar and followed Jack out of the door and back into the gray corridor. 

“Where to now?” he asked, as Jack kept moving and he hastened to keep up. This following Jack about was starting to get a little old, and he was already getting more than a little vexed with the idea that Jack thought Daniel would come running when he whistled. 

When Jack didn’t answer his question, didn’t even give any impression of having heard him, Daniel just stopped. He leaned against the nearest wall, wondering just how long it would take for Jack to realize he wasn’t there any more. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, when Jack came back to where he’d stopped, barely a minute later. Quicker than Daniel had expected, he had to give him that. “I’d like to know exactly what’s going on, and where I fit in to all this.” He gestured with his free hand, indicating the corridor, the base and the whole mountain.

“Okay,” Jack said. “If you insist, Professor.”

So, it was back to that, was it? Daniel couldn’t help feeling a little aggrieved at Jack’s attitude, considering he’d taken very little persuasion to put his life on hold and follow the colonel down to Colorado with what some might call a minimal explanation that the jar he still had was of national importance. 

“I do,” Daniel replied. “So let’s get to it. Coffee break’s over.”

Jack didn’t look pleased at having his thunder stolen, and Daniel wondered as he followed him down the corridor once more how much of a runaround he’d have had to put up with if he hadn’t rebelled. Of course, Daniel understood they had to be sure of him, but in order for him to even be here in the first place, they had to have checked him out. If his security clearance had been good enough last time round, when Catherine Langford had approached him and he was a penniless grad student, then it had to be equally good, if not better, now. 

“In here,” Jack said, pushing open a set of double doors that swung closed behind the two of them. “Afternoon, Doc,” he continued, and Daniel looked around to see who Jack was addressing. 

“Good afternoon, Colonel.” A small woman in a lab coat, pristine white over an Air Force uniform, approached the two of them—she was smiling, but even so Daniel could tell immediately she wasn’t someone you wanted to cross. “I’m Dr. Janet Fraiser,” she said, holding out her hand to Daniel.

“Professor Daniel Jackson,” he said, taking Dr. Fraiser’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, even if I have no idea why I’m here.”

“You’re here for a checkup,” Jack said. “We have something that needs scanning,” he continued, turning his attention back to Dr. Fraiser.

“In the box?” Jack nodded. “May I?” she asked, turning her attention to Daniel. He couldn’t have said why, but Daniel surrendered the box to Dr. Fraiser’s outstretched hands with every confidence that she would treat it with the care it deserved. “Is it okay if we unpack the contents?” Dr. Fraiser continued. 

“It should be fine,” Daniel said, following the woman through an anteroom and then over to a small table that stood by a familiar-looking machine. “Though I don’t really know what you think this will achieve.” Dr. Fraiser and Jack both looked at him, though Dr. Fraiser didn’t stop unwrapping the canopic jar. “We know what’s in the jar, after all.”

“Do we?” Jack asked, with a fleeting grin. 

“The jars come in sets of four,” Daniel said, glad to be back on familiar ground. “One each for the mummy’s liver, lungs, intestines and stomach. The shape of the lid determines the contents.”

“And this one?” Dr. Fraiser asked, deftly extracting the canopic jar from its final piece of packing material and placing it on the table. 

“It’s an Imsety jar. The man-shaped head shows that it contains the liver.”

Daniel watched Dr. Fraiser carefully position the canopic jar for scanning, then moved over to where Jack was standing, by the monitor where the results of the scan would be shown.

“I can pretty much promise you one thing, Daniel,” Jack said. “Whatever’s in that jar, it won’t be anyone’s liver.”

\-----------------------

He’d expected the reaction, but it still amused Jack a little to see Daniel stiffen when the image from the scan came into focus on the small monitor. 

“What the hell is that?” he asked, leaning forward as if he wanted to prod the screen until it showed what it was supposed to show, if the jar was what it was meant to be. Shame, because that really wasn’t going to happen any time soon. “Jack, what is that?”

“It’s classified,” Jack replied, grinning briefly before Daniel glared at him and he stopped. “There are things you should know, Daniel, things you’d already know if you’d taken that job like you were meant to.”

“I had a responsibility …” Daniel began, and then stopped himself, apparently with an effort. “No, first things first. What is that, and what’s it doing in my Imsety jar?”

“That, Professor Jackson,” Dr. Fraiser said, coming round to look at the monitor, “is a Goa’uld symbiote. But I think it’s dead.”

“I hope so,” Jack said. “Since Daniel has been carrying it around for the past few days.”

Daniel was still looking at the monitor, a mingled expression of curiosity and disgust on his face.

“That’s … what the hell is a Goa’uld?” Daniel pronounced it oddly, the unfamiliar word stumbling from his mouth. “And how long has it been in my canopic jar?” He crossed over to where the jar still stood, reaching out to pick it up, then stopped. “Is it really safe?”

“Go ahead,” Dr. Fraiser said. “By the look of it, the occupant has been dead for a while.” Daniel picked the canopic jar up, examining the place where the stopper met the neck of the jar. “If the seal is intact, then I’d expect it’s been in there since the jar was made, Professor,” Dr. Fraiser continued. “More than likely the Goa’uld was alive at the time but died later.”

“I can’t see any evidence that it’s been tampered with,” Daniel said. “But I certainly hadn’t looked for any, since there were no obvious signs of damage.” He replaced the jar on the table, looking thoughtful. “But what about the other jar?”

“Other jar?” Dr. Fraiser said. “Should I even ask?”

“Stolen,” Jack replied. 

He didn’t want to say what the scan had pretty much proved, but from the way Janet’s lips compressed at the mention of the missing jar, Jack could tell she’d worked it out for herself. Daniel hadn’t got there yet, but he was still processing the idea that his canopic jar hadn’t contained what it should but had instead been the repository for something that had once been alive. He’d figure out the implications of the stolen jar soon enough, once he’d got over that particular shock. 

“That’s bad,” Daniel said. “Isn’t it?”

Jack nodded. Daniel was starting to understand all of this, as Jack had thought he would, but he didn’t want to tell him too much too fast. That had the potential to backfire, since it had taken a lot for Jack himself to process the whole Goa’uld thing, even when he’d been face to face with one.

“And if there’s one like that in the other canopic jar,” Daniel continued. “Is that one safe, wherever it is?” He crossed to the monitor and looked at it again. “You said something about this one being dead, as if you were surprised …” Daniel was looking at Janet Fraiser now, intent on her and watching her with apparent concern. “You didn’t expect it to be dead, did you? But how could it possibly be alive after all this time?”

Janet reached out and took Daniel by the sleeve, pulling him in the direction of some chairs and away from the monitor. Jack followed, understanding why Daniel didn’t want to stop looking at what was on the screen, even though he was still trying to comprehend what it all meant. 

“Take a seat, Professor,” Janet said, and sat down in the chair next to him. She looked at Jack, who nodded his approval—it looked as though Daniel trusted her, which was understandable, and maybe the white coat and calm bedside manner would help him take in what he was about to hear. “There are a few things you need to know.”

\-----------------------

There were a couple of places, Daniel decided afterwards, where he could have interrupted Dr. Fraiser as she brought him up to speed. But there had been something about the story she told, backed up by the uncharacteristically quiet presence of Jack—and Daniel was certain he’d have butted in, if Dr. Fraiser hadn’t been thorough enough or digressed too much for his liking—that was fascinating, if a little too much to get his head around in one go. 

It seemed utterly farfetched, this idea of parasitic aliens, travelers from another galaxy who needed human beings as their host in order to survive and cause all sorts of mayhem. And yet Jack hadn’t interrupted, or corrected anything the doctor had to say. Instead, Daniel had caught the expression on his face a couple of times during her story, and it told of the things Jack himself had seen and experienced, things he would never want to talk about. 

“All this is real,” Daniel said, finally, after Dr. Fraiser had stopped talking and just sat there, looking at him as if to gauge his reaction. 

“I’m afraid so,” she said. “If only it weren’t real, then I’d have a much quieter life here.”

Daniel looked across at the canopic jar. It looked so innocent, standing there on the table, and yet it held what had once been a deadly secret. And the other one was still out there, in unknown hands. If Dr. Fraiser was right, the other canopic jar could be quite different—its occupant might be alive, just waiting for the opportunity to take a host. 

“These hosts,” Daniel said, looking at Jack now. “How can you tell who they are?”

“They tend to give themselves away,” Jack replied. “A combination of glowing eyes and an ego big enough to be seen from space.”

Despite himself, Daniel couldn’t help smiling at that. The problem was, if someone he knew had stolen the jar, there were a couple of people on the faculty who’d fit the latter part of those requirements without any alien assistance. 

“We need to get back to Chicago, Jack,” he said. “We have to find the Duamutef jar; see if it’s still intact.” 

Daniel didn’t bother with the rest of what he probably ought to have said, because he could see from Jack’s expression that he knew what came next. If Dr. Fraiser was right and there was a Goa’uld in the other jar, and if that Goa’uld had escaped somehow, a load of people he cared about were all in a lot more danger than they could possibly imagine. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Jack said. “But if you don’t mind, I’d feel better if we left that one here.” 

Jack jerked a thumb toward the canopic jar and somehow Daniel couldn’t find it in himself to argue. It was kind of creepy that he’d been carrying the thing around for the past few days; much more creepy than if it had contained the ancient liver it was meant to. That was just an occupational hazard where mummified remains were concerned, after all—still, archaeologists were used to dealing with what other people left behind, with all the potentially disgusting things that implied.

“No argument from me.” 

“The best thing you can do,” Dr. Fraiser said, getting up from where she’d been sitting, “is get a good night’s sleep and head for Chicago in the morning.”

For a moment, Jack looked like he was going to argue, but the tilt of Dr. Fraiser’s head was apparently enough to quell him. That was a detail Daniel stored away in his mind for later consideration, though from even their short acquaintance so far, he could see that the doctor wasn’t a woman who was used to being crossed. 

“I could make it doctor’s orders, if you like, Colonel,” she continued, her tone as sweet as if no thought of dissension on his part had ever crossed her mind. 

“No need, Doc.” Jack’s tone was brusque, but affectionate despite that, and Daniel found himself relaxing. “Come on, Daniel,” he said, turning his attention to where Daniel still sat. “We’d better get out of here.”

Back into the gray maze of corridors, which were starting to feel oddly familiar now, though Daniel still had to wonder whether he’d seen the full extent of them. It was a big mountain, after all, and he had no concept of how far the tunnels might stretch beneath the surface. They’d walked for only a couple of minutes when Jack stopped, reaching a door labeled “VIP quarters,” though from the outside it looked just like any number they’d already passed. 

“Here we are,” he said, opening the door. “Home away from home.”

Daniel followed him in, looking around when the light came on. It wasn’t the worst place he’d ever seen—an odd combination of concrete walls and hotel-style furniture—but for some reason it made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was the thought of all that rock immediately overhead. While they’d been moving, or he had someone to talk to, it wasn’t so bad but the idea of sleeping here? Daniel couldn’t see how he could possibly get to sleep with so many tons of granite just feet over his head.

“I don’t think I can stay here,” he said, reluctantly. Daniel wasn’t sure what he’d see in Jack’s face when he turned to where the other man stood, but at least the expression there wasn’t derisory.

“Cabin fever?” Jack asked. “It happens.”

“I’m not normally claustrophobic,” Daniel began, “but this …” He gestured, his arm sweeping to encompass the room. “I just …”

“No need to explain.” Jack opened the door, his hand moving to the light switch as he waited for Daniel to pass him and return to the hallway. Once Daniel was outside, he flicked off the light and closed the door, seemingly unaffected by Daniel’s sudden attack of nerves. “I’d better let Hammond know what we’re doing, but you can stay at my place tonight.”

\-----------------------

They’d made a brief detour by Hammond’s office, after which Jack had rounded up an airman to find Daniel’s bags and then found his own were already in the bed of his truck waiting for him. Daniel’s stuff had arrived in the parking lot even as Daniel was doing up his seatbelt, and then the two of them were headed out of the base. 

He could understand Daniel not wanting to sleep at the base, since it took a little time before anyone new there forgot just how much mountain there was on top of them and how small the likelihood was of it coming crashing down just on you. He wouldn’t be the first to feel a little squeamish about the idea and Jack doubted he’d be the last. Jack also couldn’t help feeling a little glad of the opportunity to get Daniel on his home turf, even if the professor was still sending out mixed signals. 

Jack remembered what he’d said about never being involved with Dr. Gardner, the throwaway comment Daniel had made about her and someone else being on the list—another faculty member, but this one a guy—and how he’d managed not to react at the time. Jack knew he needed to play it cool with the good professor, there was little doubt about that, and he also couldn’t afford to blow his working relationship with the guy for the sake of a roll in the hay. Assuming, of course, that Daniel would even go along with that. 

Daniel’s face was inscrutable in the light from passing traffic, so Jack couldn’t tell what he was thinking. If there was one thing for certain, he had a lot to try and get his head round, what with coming to Cheyenne Mountain and the contents of the jar. Jack wasn’t sure how he would have dealt with all of that, if their positions had been reversed, or whether it had been better to discover most of what he knew from face-to-face encounters with Goa’ulds and their hosts. Usually shortly before he tried to kill them, which often messed with the social niceties. 

“What else don’t I know about?” Daniel asked. He was still looking straight ahead, as Jack glanced across at him then returned his attention to driving. “How dangerous is this Goa’uld, if it’s still alive and has taken over someone?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, thinking of Charlie Kawalsky. How could he find the words to explain what that was like? Watching someone you’d known for years suddenly become a stranger, worse than that a stranger who was intent on killing you if given half a chance? He hoped that was something Daniel would never have to experience himself, but the longer the missing canopic jar stayed missing, the slimmer that chance grew.

“More dangerous than you can imagine,” Jack said. He forced himself to concentrate on driving, though part of him wanted to look at Daniel, to know the words were going in. “That thing … it doesn’t just take over, it knows what they know. Everything they know.”

He remembered Charlie’s voice, oddly echoing as it mocked him. As it asked about Jack’s son, his namesake, because the real Kawalsky knew about him. Because it had the capacity to distract, to put Jack off his game long enough that the thing, the thing that wasn’t Kawalsky now, might survive. It had been wrong. 

“I’m sorry.”

Jack shook his head, wishing he could get rid of the memories as easily as he gave Daniel absolution for bringing them up. 

“It’s done,” he said. “We’re not.”

“Damn right,” Daniel said. 

He sounded more confident than he had a right to be, and Jack found himself hoping that attitude would last, once they found the other jar. There was a chance, even a slim one, that they could locate the jar and get it back without the contents being disturbed. If that was the case then Daniel could go back to his academic life and forget all about this craziness. If he wanted to, of course, and Jack kind of hoped he wouldn’t—if he had to have geeks around, he’d much rather have the Daniel Jackson’s of this world than the Robert Rothmans, for more reasons than he’d care to list.

\-----------------------

Once they got to Jack’s place, Daniel found himself following Jack again, this time to the guest room where he was told to make himself at home and then left to his own devices. As he unpacked, sorting through the small amount of things he’d brought with him, Daniel wondered if he’d had any idea what he was getting into when he’d agreed to come on this wild goose chase. Or had it just been Jack, the chance to spend some more time with the man, which had overwhelmed his common sense when he should still be in Chicago marking assignments and taking tutorials?

It was all a little too real. Daniel sat down on the bed, still holding the clothes he’d taken from his bag. Jack hadn’t specified what it was he did, but there was something dangerous about the guy that gave Daniel an indication—somehow, he knew Jack got up close and personal with these Goa’uld, and by the sound of it that was a perilous exercise at best. He hadn’t said much on the way over here, but what he had said was so fraught with unspoken emotion that Daniel had been forced to ignore it, suppressing his instinctive reaction to try and comfort a man he barely knew. 

He wasn’t sure how Jack would take that, after all. Sure, he’d dropped some heavy hints that he was certain the other man had picked up on, but he needed Jack for more than just that kind of relationship—if he was going to get his missing canopic jar back before something nasty came crawling out of it, Daniel knew he’d need all the help he could get. 

That didn’t stop him from wondering what would happen if he did reach out to Jack, if Jack didn’t rebuff his advances. It had been a while since Daniel had been with anyone but Steven, and the two of them together had hardly been poster children for a healthy relationship. Not that this meant anything he was involved with was doomed to failure, though Daniel had an idea Steven might hold that opinion. 

There was a knock on the door. “Chinese okay with you?” Jack asked, from the other side of the door. 

“Sounds good,” Daniel said, getting up from the bed. He couldn’t just sit here and ponder the possibilities, or at least not for long without getting maudlin about things he didn’t have the right to think about now. “I’ll be right out.”

No answer. The hall outside was carpeted so it was likely Jack had just waited for his first response and then headed back into the living room to phone in their order. Daniel was pretty certain Jack was the kind of guy who had half a dozen fast food delivery numbers on his speed dial; that was probably an occupational hazard if you spent your life fighting alien parasite creatures. 

By the time he came out of the guest room, Jack was sitting on the couch, beer in hand. 

“Yours is on the table,” he said, nodding towards where an open bottle stood. Daniel took it and sat, sinking into the cushions at the other end of the couch. “Food’ll be here in thirty.”

Daniel took a mouthful of beer and found himself choking a little when he did so. 

“That’s …” He coughed. “That’s stronger than I expected.”

“Sorry,” Jack said, though he didn’t look particularly apologetic. “I have some domestic in the fridge, if you’d rather …”

“No,” Daniel said. “It’s good, it’s just … strong.”

Jack smiled, raised his own bottle in mock-salute and then took a long drink. It took significant effort on Daniel’s part not to watch him, to stop looking at the way Jack’s throat moved when he swallowed, not to mention the quick lick of his tongue across his lower lip to catch the last few errant drops of beer. And he definitely wasn’t wondering what Jack would taste like right now, if he closed the distance between them on the couch and just took his life into his own hands. Definitely not. 

Daniel took another mouthful of beer to try and wash that thought away, resting the cold bottle on his groin when he was done—two birds with one stone, and all that. It had to work, didn’t it? 

“You want something?” Jack asked. Daniel was certain his head had snapped round at that, maybe not quick enough for whiplash but definitely fast enough to make Jack notice his reaction. If he hadn’t been reaching for the remote instead. “There’s probably a game on.”

Daniel took what he realized was a shuddering breath, telling his heart to regain its normal rhythm and stop trying to force its way out through his ribcage. 

“I’m good,” he said, finally. “Whatever you want.”

And wasn’t that true enough? Even as he spoke the words, Daniel knew tonight he would go along happily with whatever it was Jack wanted, no matter what that meant. Probably not the wisest decision he’d ever made, but it was made all the same. If things had been different, if Professor Jordan’s heart attack hadn’t wrecked all his half-made plans, who knew what would have happened? There could have been years of opportunity where Jack O’Neill was concerned, all missed because of a badly timed cardiac arrest and his own subsequent guilt trip. 

What else had he missed out on along the way? Steven had always accused him of putting duty first, while secretly Daniel thought he was just annoyed because Daniel wouldn’t put him first over work, but maybe he’d had a point all along …

\-----------------------

He could wait until after dinner. Jack kept telling himself that, even though every instinct he had was telling him just how much he didn’t want to wait at all. It was much too important that he didn’t fuck this up, not when he had to work with the guy. He’d come to realize too that he didn’t just want a roll in the hay. Sure, he’d thought that before, but the urge to ruffle Daniel Jackson’s feathers just a little was almost too much to resist. 

The whole thing in the truck had been bad enough—Jack wasn’t sure what had come over him, letting his guard down like that with a guy he barely knew, but there was something about this particular guy. Something that felt as though he belonged here, as if he was a piece of the puzzle Jack hadn’t even known was missing until he found it. A piece that made a bunch of other things make sense, unexpected as that was, even though he wasn’t sure what the picture at the end was going to be. 

Somehow he had a feeling he was going to enjoy the ride, anyway. Jack took a mouthful of beer to try and cover up his smirk at that thought. That was an added bonus, the unexpected cherry on the top of the cake—not only did he like Professor Jackson a hell of a lot better than he liked any of Rothman’s geeks despite knowing them all for months, Jackson filled out a pair of jeans like he was paid to do so. And he wasn’t self-conscious about it, either, or probably even aware that he was definitely no hardship to look at. 

Ruffling feathers, he could do that. And despite what people might think about him, Jack O’Neill could do subtle when it was needed. His earlier comment had made Daniel’s head snap round so fast he was worried about his vertebrae—Jack found himself smiling at the thought of it. Once Daniel’s feathers were ruffled, then he’d figure out what to do next. 

The doorbell interrupted any further thoughts on Jack’s part about how that ruffling was exactly going to happen. 

By the time he emerged from the kitchen again with plates and forks, Daniel was already inspecting the contents of the bags. Jack stood and watched him for a moment, as he deftly opened and closed each carton in quick succession before he realized he was being watched. 

“Sorry,” Daniel said, looking a little sheepish. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jack handed him a plate. “I tried to get a mix of stuff, since I didn’t know what you’d like. 

“It looks great,” Daniel said. “Thanks for all this.”

“The Chinese?” Jack asked. He knew what Daniel meant, really, but there was something about hearing him actually say the words. “You’re welcome.”

“No.” Daniel looked down at the plate he was holding and suddenly Jack felt bad about teasing him. He was out of his element, in more ways than one—his whole view of the universe had been turned on its head in a matter of hours and it was more than likely this was only the beginning. “Not just the Chinese.”

“You’re still welcome,” Jack said, the tightness in his chest easing a little when Daniel looked up again and smiled at him.

\-----------------------

He’d never been too good at the subtleties, Daniel decided, as he drank the last of his coffee. Steven had always been good at interpreting what he was almost-saying, and had never been all that subtle himself when he’d made up his mind that he wanted something. Maybe it was just another language, but one Daniel had yet to learn? 

The empty mug was still warm in his hand, but the last of the coffee was finally gone and every reason to just sit there gone with it. He should make his excuses and go to bed, Daniel knew that; he should remind them both they had an early start in the morning, admit that he was bone-tired and needed to get some sleep. But he couldn’t help wanting to sit there, just basking in the sheer fact of being with someone else, someone unexpectedly comfortable to be with, for the first time in longer than he could remember.

Steven Rayner had been many things, but comfortable wasn’t one of them. It was that, more than anything else, which made Daniel wonder just why it was he’d put up with Steven as long as he had. He needed more than what Steven was apparently able to give him, even if he’d barely be able to put names to what those things were. Maybe he was just a sucker for a pair of big brown eyes?

Beside him, just in reach if he made the effort, Jack was sprawled out with his feet on the coffee table. As Daniel nursed his mug despite its emptiness, Jack shifted his weight, cursing quietly as he bent his knee. 

“What is it?” Daniel asked. All excuses forgotten, he put his mug down on the coffee table. 

“My damn knee,” Jack said. His face was drawn, the sudden burst of pain that must have caused it already etching lines there. “It gives out …” His hand, the hand that lay between them on the couch, clutched the cushions for a moment before he turned his head to Daniel. “Help me up?”

Daniel was there almost before the question was asked, Jack’s body warm and solid against his own as he maneuvered his shoulder under Jack’s raised arm. It was touch and go initially, the combined weight an awkward thing to shift despite both their efforts, but after a moment they were moving. 

“Watch out for the step,” Jack said. He hadn’t tried to walk on his own, as Daniel had somehow expected he would once he was standing. 

They made their way up the steps separating the living room from the passage that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. Jack’s bedroom was at the end of the hall, so they passed the guest room and kept going. 

“Thanks,” Jack said, as Daniel helped him sit on the end of the bed. “I didn’t expect to need hauling around like that. Usually I have an idea when there’s going to be a problem.” He looked a little sheepish and Daniel could sympathize—it couldn’t have been easy to ask for help, even from someone who owed you a favor for letting them stay the night. “If you don’t mind, I have pills. In the bathroom cabinet.”

“How well do they go with alcohol?” Daniel asked, as he headed for the door, then into the bathroom. Jack didn’t answer. 

They’d each only had one beer, so that was probably okay, but he’d see what was on the label—if all else failed, Daniel was pretty certain he could persuade Jack to let him phone Dr. Fraiser. He found the right bottle, examining the label carefully for a moment before heading back into Jack’s bedroom. 

What Daniel saw when he opened the door again took his breath away for a moment. Jack had just lain back on the bed, still where Daniel had left him, his feet planted firmly on the floor. That position, from Daniel’s angle, left absolutely nothing to the imagination—everything he saw was long, lean and muscular. 

Jack looked up then, lifting his head a little because he was aware of Daniel’s presence, and Daniel was certain the other man could read him like a book. His expression shifted subtly, from casual to almost predatory, and then back to casual once more in a matter of moments. If he hadn’t seen it for himself, Daniel wasn’t completely sure he would have believed it. 

“Give me one of those, would you?” Jack asked. His eyes were still intent on Daniel, watching him as he circled the bed and came round to the side. Jack reached out, taking one of the pills from Daniel, then swallowed it dry without looking away. “That ought to do the trick.”

“I should come to bed,” Daniel said, aware for the first time of how close he was to the edge of his own self-control. He could do this, just reach out and take what he wanted with no thought for the consequences—maybe for the first time in his life—it was so tempting, but at the same time so likely to be destructive in the longer term. “I mean, I should get to bed.”

Jack smiled then, the lazy smile of a predator that’s seen its prey for the first time, and Daniel knew he’d given away more with that slip of the tongue than he’d ever wanted to admit. 

“Plenty of room right here,” Jack said, patting the bed beside him. 

It had to be the booze talking; that pill and a bottle of beer was clearly a bad combination despite what it said on the label, causing effects Daniel had been right to worry about after all. 

“I don’t …”

“Daniel, shut up and get over here,” Jack said. 

Jack hadn’t shifted his position, in fact he probably couldn’t without help at the moment, but he had reached out and snagged Daniel’s sleeve with the fingertips of one hand. Just enough to lay hold, but barely enough to make Daniel do anything he didn’t want to do—a token grasp, if that, giving Daniel the chance to make up his own mind. 

He let himself be tugged, though it wouldn’t have taken much effort to pull away, sitting down on the bed the way Jack obviously wanted. Daniel felt Jack’s hand slide up his arm, fingers curling around his bicep as gently as they’d laid hold of his sleeve, persuading rather than pulling him to lie back. He closed his eyes, let the momentum take him and allowed Jack to direct his fall. 

The bed was soft, Jack’s presence as warm and comforting as it had been in the other room, when things between them had been more innocent and definitely less promising. 

“There’s not much I can do till the percocet really kicks in,” Jack said. “Nothing that involves my leg, anyway.” 

Daniel didn’t need to open his eyes to see the smirk that particular tone implied, since he’d already seen it on Jack’s face often enough since they’d first met. 

He caught his breath, conscious that Jack was touching him now, the hand that had pulled him down onto the bed now moving to rest on his hip, sliding across his groin as if it was a strange five-legged creature testing uncertain ground. Daniel knew what it would find there, the evidence of his interest in the man who lay beside him apparent enough to leave no doubt. 

“Getting a head start, Professor?” Jack asked. 

Daniel felt the bed shift and opened his eyes momentarily to see that Jack had rolled onto his side. The expression on Jack’s face wasn’t predatory any longer; now it was more like curiosity with a dash of wonder thrown in, as if he couldn’t believe Daniel was really there. Well, that made two of them. 

Jack’s hand cupped over Daniel’s groin, the warmth and pressure making him want to thrust against it, but still he held back. This could all be some enormous joke, though he couldn’t figure out what could possibly be the point of it. Then the hand moved, Jack’s hand, his fingers deftly opening the fly of Daniel’s pants and slipping inside. No joke, it seemed, as Daniel found himself moving in response at last, certain now that this was all very real.

\-----------------------

Earlier in the evening, Jack would have said that getting the chance to jerk Daniel Jackson off hadn’t been high on his “things I am likely to do tonight” list, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. He’d taken a chance, that was certain, but it had paid off like a lottery jackpot and just as unexpected. There had always been the possibility that Daniel would react badly, though Jack had equally gambled that any rebuff would at least be polite, but he’d never expected to get the chance to lay the guy out like this without a few more beers inside him first. 

The knee thing had been genuine, though, the souvenir of an unfortunate trip to Iraq a few years earlier, and he’d appreciated Daniel’s help in getting him to his bedroom. God knows, if the other guy hadn’t been around, Jack knew he would have been reduced to shuffling on his butt until he could get hold of some medication to take the edge off the pain—he’d done that before and it was never pleasant. 

Instead, Daniel had rallied round and the two of them were in here now. And the fact that Daniel had allowed himself to go along with Jack’s crackbrained plan to seduce him was like Christmas come early, even if Jack was certain he’d never been a good enough boy for Santa to bring him something like this. 

Daniel’s reaction to Jack’s hand, tentative as it had been at first, had definitely underlined the “likes guys” part of the questionnaire Jack had been mentally filling in—with the help of some heavy duty pills, Jack might even get to explore some other sections of the “what Daniel will do or have done to him” list he hoped to have time to compile. 

Not that Daniel was relaxed, though, and that was one thing that Jack didn’t like all that much. He wasn’t saying much, the odd breathy moans he occasionally made barely counting as words, and he was definitely moving in time with what Jack was doing to him. Maybe that was the problem—were things a little too one-sided for the good professor? 

Jack moved carefully on the bed again, flexing his knee a little to see just how bad it was. Not bad enough that Janet was getting her claws on him any time soon, so that was definitely a good sign, or indeed bad enough they couldn’t set out for Chicago in the morning—Jack knew both those levels of bad more intimately than he cared to recall and this was nothing near either of those. 

There were definitely things he wouldn’t be doing in the near future though, and some of those were things Jack would regret having to put off. Still, he figured he was inventive enough—with the help of an imaginative individual like Daniel seemed to be—to make up for those difficulties in other ways. If only he could get Daniel to relax and look like he was enjoying himself more. 

Jack paused, stilling his hand—he couldn’t help smiling when Daniel opened his eyes at the lack of movement, his expression questioning. 

“What’s up, Doc?” he asked, if only for the chance to make Daniel scowl at him, which he promptly did. Jack smirked at him, watching the scowl grow more pronounced in response. “I could use a little help here.”

With his free hand, Jack grabbed hold of Daniel’s wrist, pulling the professor’s hand to his own groin. Daniel’s eyes widened a little, then Jack saw an answering smirk appear in place of the scowl. 

Daniel rolled onto his side as well now, facing Jack, his hands busy with the button fly on Jack’s jeans. His face was a picture of concentration, even if his breath shuddered a little when Jack began his own inexorable stroking of Daniel’s erection once more. So, it seemed he could be taught …

\-----------------------

Later, but not that much later, Jack was pressed up against him, warm skin against skin, calloused hand slipping round to take possession of Daniel’s cock, fingers wrapping around it as if they’d done this a thousand times before. Jack’s breath was hot on the back of his neck, a heated reminder of what they were about to do.

“Do you mind?” 

“What?” Daniel asked, almost proud of himself that he could answer immediately considering the distracting way Jack was handling his erection. “What is it?”

“I can’t. Not like this,” Jack said, the words muttered into the back of Daniel’s neck. “My knee. Can we …?”

Daniel almost laughed but bit the sound back, knowing it might not be received in the spirit in which he meant it. This was ridiculous. What the hell was he doing having sex with someone he’d only just met? And not for the first time, since they’d already jerked one another off, like some demented race between them to see who could make the other lose it fastest. In the end, Daniel wasn’t completely sure who’d come first, and just wondering about that made him want to laugh as well. 

Jack’s fingers tightened, shifted, and Daniel lost track of his thoughts again for a moment. 

“Daniel?”

“Hmmm?”

Jack chuckled, the tiny gust of warm breath stirring the hairs behind Daniel’s ear, and then they were moving, rolling over onto their sides as Jack leaned and Daniel found he was following. 

“That’s better,” Jack continued, before punctuating his statement with a nudge from his knee. 

Daniel allowed the movement of Jack’s leg to move his own leg forward, spreading himself open in a way that was anything but his usual behavior, oddly quiescent. This was what he’d wanted, after all, something he’d missed more than he’d thought possible. Jack’s other hand was sliding down Daniel’s side, warm and real and fingers curling around the place where Daniel’s hipbone protruded, thumb brushing against the skin above. 

“Please,” Daniel said, surprising himself with the word, since he didn’t think either of them would have second thoughts about this. He certainly didn’t. 

“How long?” 

Daniel thought back for a moment, as clearly as he could considering the distracting movement of Jack’s hands on his body, wondering just how long it had been. His most recent encounters with Steven had been perfunctory at best, hardly deserving the recognition of memory. 

“Five years,” he said, eventually, once he’d figured it out. “Maybe six.”

“We’ll go slow,” Jack replied, answering a question Daniel hadn’t even thought to ask. His mouth was warm too, lips brushing across Daniel’s shoulder as his hand tightened a little and Daniel felt himself tensing in reaction. “Slow as you need.”

He didn’t want slow, though. That was the problem. He didn’t want slow and considerate, not from someone who wasn’t going to be around to continue things in the long term. He wanted something to remember. 

“Please,” Daniel said again, spreading his legs a little more. Steven had always laughed at him, saying he was a slow fuse at best and took lots of encouragement unless he was liquored up, but there was something about Jack’s own slowness that infuriated him. “I don’t want slow,” Daniel continued, pressing back against Jack and feeling the solidity of the erection pressing against him. “You know you don’t either.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” Jack said. 

His hand slipped from where it had been working Daniel’s cock and Daniel was glad of that, glad of the lack of stimulation, since it was driving him closer to the edge than he needed to be just now. Otherwise he stood a chance of losing it like a teenager the moment Jack was inside him and that was hardly the impression he wanted to make. 

The earlier, almost competitive, sex between them had been one thing but this was something else altogether. He wanted to make this last, to take this memory and lock it away somewhere for the next time Steven tormented him, knowing he knew something Steven didn’t. The thought of it was enough to make Daniel smile again, making him relax and ease into the moment once more, certain it would last. 

Jack was in him, then, without any more warning. Daniel felt his breath catch, stuttering, as Jack kept on pushing, pushing like he knew exactly what he was doing and had done this, with Daniel a thousand times before—when to push on, when to pause, familiar and reassuring and utterly right. Steven had never taken the time to make it work, not really work, and Daniel knew he’d always been equally hasty in return. It had been second best for both of them, something they chose to do because they had no alternative, and maybe that had been the problem. 

Daniel had always been certain it could be better, except that it never had been, or at least not before this. Now he wasn’t sure he could ever imagine having sex with Steven again, even if whatever it was he had with Jack crumbled into dust in the light of morning. 

Jack was moving inside him now, long deep strokes, a regular rhythm that Daniel found himself responding to, almost instinctively. Jack was muttering something too, with every thrust, the words a little too quiet to hear and Daniel only caught the breaths of them, warm against the side of his face. It could have been anything, he knew that, but somehow he didn’t want to know what Jack was saying, just that they were here, the two of them. Right now, together and for as long as this thing between them lasted.

\-----------------------

The alarm going off startled Jack awake, made him flail for the offending clock with every intention of throwing it across the room. Or that would have been the movement, if he’d been alone in his bed, and if there hadn’t been a naked professor of archaeology sprawled across him. Daniel was half-awake, blinking sleepily at the fact Jack was moving at all, and Jack suddenly remembered just what had happened between them the previous night. It had all snowballed unexpectedly, from a casual gesture in response to the assistance Daniel had given him to get in here. 

And damn, it had been good, better than anything he’d done in a long time. Not that Jack was exactly cutting notches in his bedposts by any stretch of the imagination, so that probably helped, but it had still been memorable. 

“What time is it?” Daniel asked, still sprawled. Well, apparently part of him was working, if not his brain or the rest of him. Jack craned his neck to look at the clock. “Tell me it’s not stupidly early.”

“It’s not.” Jack let his head drop back on the pillow, wondering how long the calm before the storm would last. He knew better than to expect Daniel, or anyone, could take everything quite as calmly as he seemed to be doing at the moment and could only blame it on the fact he wasn’t fully awake yet. “It’s oh five thirty.”

Daniel made an incoherent noise. Jack didn’t even bother to try and figure out what it meant, or to think about why he’d thought it would be a good idea to set the alarm for that time. What had he planned to do? The plane wasn’t leaving for a good four hours, it was an hour’s drive from his house to Peterson, and unless he was planning to whip up a three-course breakfast for his houseguest he couldn’t remember just what had possessed him. 

Or maybe it was left over from the last time he went off world and he hadn’t got around to changing it. Damn, that was it. He’d planned to change it, but the whole having-hot-sex-with-Daniel business had made him forget all about alarm clocks. Getting your rocks off tended to do that kind of thing, in Jack’s experience, even if that experience wasn’t as recent as he might want to consider. 

Well, at least Daniel hadn’t leapt from the bed like an outraged virgin, so he guessed that was a good start. In fact, if the warm and heavy press of Daniel’s body against him was telling Jack one thing, it was that Daniel wasn’t planning to leap out of bed any time soon. Or at least not until his body’s need for either urination or caffeine started making demands he couldn’t ignore. 

Closing his eyes, Jack ran through the possible outcomes of what they’d done, if outrage wasn’t on the list. It was a remote possibility, but one that had to be considered, that Daniel would take all this in his stride—for all his talk about the time it had been since he’d had sex with Steven Rayner, maybe he made a habit of falling into bed with colleagues at the drop of a hat. 

Or maybe, once Daniel had woken up properly and realized the implications of their actions last night, he’d go down the “we can still be friends” route. Jack decided he liked that one least of all, because it offered something that was hardly ever a real option. The only guy he could think of where a roll in the hay hadn’t wrecked their friendship completely was Charlie Kawalsky, god rest his soul, who’d left a trail of fuck buddies the size of a small invasion force behind him, all of whom seemed to still think he was a great guy. Which he was. 

Option three was the cold shoulder. In some ways, that would be easier to cope with than “we can still be friends,” but Jack wasn’t sure Daniel could pull it off. He’d seen the way the guy was with Dr. Gardner, after all, so the last thing Daniel could ever be accused of would be giving someone that kind of cold shoulder. 

Daniel made that incoherent noise again, a little longer and a little louder, as if testing his ability to communicate. He moved a little too, his leg falling naturally between Jack’s thighs as if the two of them had slept together for years. His hip brushed Jack’s morning erection, the skin there hot against Jack’s arousal—it made willing that reaction away all the more difficult. 

Again with the alternatives. A surreptitious hand job right here—likely to be problematic, since it would probably wake Daniel up—or a quick trip to the bathroom and then Jack could jerk off in privacy. It wouldn’t take much, he was certain of that, even if there weren’t all of last night to fall back on. He knew what Daniel felt like, inside and out, what he tasted like and the little sounds he made when he was being fucked. Jack felt his cock jump at that thought, the memory of where it had been the previous night, and wondered whether Daniel was up for Round Three. 

It wasn’t impossible, after all, but he had no idea how to broach the subject with the half-asleep man who currently lay draped across him. If it had been Kawalsky he was in bed with, he’d have known a brusque “Charlie, roll over” would have got him some response. Even if the response ended up being an enthusiastic blowjob instead, which was probably part of the reason everyone seemed to have such fond memories of Major Charles Kawalsky. 

Daniel was still unknown territory. He’d been enthusiastic enough last night, once the initial surprise had worn off, much more enthusiastic than Jack had any right to have expected. But until Jack had established what the fallout was, it seemed a little bit ambitious to be pushing for more. 

He felt Daniel move again, certain he was still asleep and none of this was deliberate, and it took a moment for Jack to realize just what it was Daniel was doing. It was only when he began to move, slow as a glacier, his own morning hard-on pressed against the curve of Jack’s hipbone, that Jack allowed himself to relax. His left arm was trapped under Daniel’s weight and Jack lifted his hand, bringing it round to rest in the small of Daniel’s back. The skin there was warm to his touch, the muscles sliding beneath it under his hand. 

He was responding to the movement too, as Daniel’s thigh brushed his erection, closing on the edge of oblivion as long moments passed. Jack was right there, teetering on the brink of completion, his hand still riding on Daniel’s back, when he felt Daniel began to wake. 

“Oh god,” Daniel said, his voice husky with arousal. “Jack.” 

Daniel lifted himself up a little, his hands planted either side of Jack’s body as he pushed back. Jack’s hand was still resting on his back and he used that to slow the movement, to stop Daniel from pulling away totally, tightening his grip to keep their bodies together. For all that he was awake now, Daniel didn’t seem able to stop moving, to stop grinding himself against Jack, and that was just the way Jack liked it. He’d deal with the fallout after he got off. 

It didn’t take long. Jack tumbled over the edge, shuddering his completion against Daniel’s thigh and Daniel followed him a couple of strokes later, subsiding against him as he came once more. His face was pressed into the curve of Jack’s shoulder, so Jack could feel each breath he took, feel just how long it took for Daniel to get his breathing under control and still his racing heart from the orgasm they’d all but shared. 

“Morning,” Daniel mumbled, without moving his head. “I think …”

There was no tension in Daniel’s body—if there was, it would have been impossible to hide, they were so entwined. Jack found that his left hand was still on Daniel’s back, resting where the curve of his spine met his ass, almost possessive. 

He shook that thought away as soon as it arrived. While he’d enjoyed what had just happened, and the night before, this wasn’t some kind of permanent arrangement and Jack knew he needed to keep that in mind. The two of them were together for a reason—find the missing jar, find out if the Goa’uld was still there, and if it were they’d be done. And then Daniel could go back to his dusty books and Jack could forget all about fucking a geek and concentrate on keeping the universe safe for all their sakes. 

That would work. Really. 

Anyway, time to change the tone, if they stood any chance of getting things between them back on an even keel, or at least to remind himself this wasn’t something more than what it seemed. Opening his eyes, Jack concentrated on the feel of sweat-slick skin under his palm for a moment before bringing his hand down sharply, just the once, on Daniel’s ass. 

As he’d expected, Daniel was pretty much just feigning sleep and was up on all fours looming over him before the echo of the slap had faded.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. For a man who’d supposedly been asleep, Daniel did outraged really well—his eyes were full of fire, even if the well-kissed mouth made a stunning contrast. “Damn it.” 

Daniel sat back on his heels, and then was off the bed and halfway across to the door before Jack could pull his attention away from his particularly spectacular ass. Which was currently leaving Jack’s bedroom at high speed, a red mark showing high on the curve of one cheek. 

Jack was torn between following Daniel, if an apology was needed to keep the peace at least a little—had he hit the other man too hard?—and figuring that would be a really bad idea. He’d known what he was doing when he slapped the guy, a calculated move to push things on if they were ever going to get on that plane back to Chicago, but in hindsight it might not have been as good an idea as he’d thought …

\-----------------------

By the time he heard Jack emerge from his bedroom, Daniel had already made it into the bathroom with a pile of clothing, the drying semen on his skin beginning to itch as he turned on the shower. 

It hadn’t been so much the blow—while he couldn’t see his own ass, he didn’t feel any soreness where Jack had slapped him—as the sudden way in which it had roused him from his post-coital lassitude. He’d thought what they’d done together had been equally appreciated by the two of them, but now Daniel was starting to wonder whether Jack had just appreciated the fact of another warm body being there and that had been the end of it. 

Maybe he was getting paranoid. After all, they’d just had sex three times in the matter of a few hours; even if Daniel had been shell-shocked for the first and half-asleep for the last. Still, when he’d had some coffee and the chance to get his head round the whole situation, maybe things would look different. And maybe they wouldn’t. 

The shower was a revelation, the hot water heavenly against his skin. Despite his previous exertions, Daniel found himself beginning to harden again just a little. A quick adjustment to the temperature of the water was enough to make it go away, though. 

When he emerged from the bathroom, Daniel was immediately assailed by the smell of coffee. 

“A peace offering,” Jack said, meeting him at the kitchen door with a mug of dark steaming liquid. “Sorry about … you know.”

“Hmm,” Daniel said, noncommittal, but took the coffee from him anyway. 

Jack eyed him for a moment, before slipping past him, back towards his own room. Daniel half-turned to watch him go—the threadbare sweatpants Jack had pulled on left little to the imagination, even if he hadn’t already seen everything they contained, up close and personal. 

The coffee was damn good, though, unexpectedly so. Daniel leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, looking out across to where the land at the back of Jack’s house went down into a small patch of trees. God, it was early. He could hear Jack in the bathroom now, and helped himself to another mug of coffee. For a moment, Daniel pondered turning on the kitchen faucet while Jack was in the shower, but decided that was too childish even for a guy who’d had his ass slapped. 

What was that about anyway? Sure, Daniel knew he must have been a tempting target, sprawled naked across Jack that way, but was this a side of Jack O’Neill that Daniel wasn’t sure he wanted to know about? Everything between them before that had been, if not gentle, hardly rough. Still, maybe he was making too much of one thing and he should forget about it and take Jack’s apology at face value. 

“Is there any left?” Jack spoke from the doorway. Daniel found himself wondering how long he’d been there, watching him stare vacantly out of the window. “Or did you drink it all?”

“Not yet,” Daniel said, “but it’s still early.” He turned, leaning back against the counter, and watched Jack pour himself some coffee. 

“Yeah, about that.” 

“You’re a masochist who likes early morning runs?” Daniel ventured. Jack crossed in front of where he stood. “And there was me thinking another label might fit you better, Jack,” he continued, amused by the way Jack stiffened a little at his tone, even as he continued to root around in the interior of the fridge. 

“We can’t all be morning people, I guess,” Jack said. 

Jack had closed the fridge by now, looking as relaxed as if he’d just strolled into the room and the whole previous exchange had never happened. If he smirked any time soon, Daniel knew he’d want to brain him with the coffeemaker and damn the consequences. 

“What happened before,” Daniel said. He put his mug down carefully on the counter beside where he stood. It seemed like a good idea to do anything that would reduce the possibility of him wanting to throw it at Jack. “Not fun.”

“Message received, loud and clear,” Jack said. His face was relatively impassive, which Daniel took as at least being better than being on the receiving end of Jack’s smirk. Better for everyone concerned, including the household appliances. “But I hope you’re just talking about me slapping your ass, because everything else seemed pretty much like we were both having fun. And I should know, I’ve had plenty of fun in my time.”

Daniel shook his head, reaching for his mug again. The man was incorrigible, it seemed. But at least it sounded like the message had got through and only time would tell if it would actually take.


	3. Chapter 3

Every instinct Jack had told him he’d had a lucky escape. Once the subject had been dealt with, and Daniel had consumed a couple of mugs full of coffee, everything seemed to be copasetic between them. Better than he’d any right to expect, Jack reminded himself. It could all have gone down in flames, a spectacular disaster, but instead it seemed like everything was all going to be okay. Better than okay, maybe. 

They were headed for Peterson now, and even if Daniel was watching the scenery rather than talking, it was a comfortable silence. It could just as easily have been a prickly quiet between them, like the ones Jack had experienced on those occasions when he’d rowed with his ex-wife, usually on the way to or from some family function. If there was one thing to say about Sara, she’d been good at prickly silences.

Of course, there was more to her than that, but most of the time it was hard to remember the good times they’d had when they’d first married. Jack had hoped that if he embraced a normal life with gusto, finding himself a good woman and settling down, everything else would fall into place. And some of the time they’d spent together had been good, though it was hard to remember the good times past the pall of pain and recrimination that their son’s death had cast over everything. Charlie would have hated that, Jack had realized long afterwards; like any child, he always wanted his parents to be getting along. 

“You think that thing’s still alive in the jar?” Daniel asked, the question coming out of the blue. 

Jack glanced across to where he sat, seeing that Daniel hadn’t even turned from his contemplation of the passing scenery. 

“If we’re lucky,” Jack said. “Or it’s dead, which would be even luckier.” 

He didn’t like to talk about the third scenario, though he was pretty sure Daniel would have figured out what it was from the moment the word “parasitic” came out of Janet’s mouth. Daniel seemed to accept his answer, though, and he didn’t speak again until they’d taken off and were well on the way back to Chicago. 

“Do you actually have a plan?” he asked, coming over to sit opposite where Jack was. 

At least this plane was quieter than the one on which they’d made their previous trip, allowing for conversation if they wanted it. All Jack could hope was that Daniel didn’t start talking about anything inappropriate, since he’d never got around to explaining the concept of “don’t ask, don’t tell” in the time they’d known one another. And he wasn’t about to start now. 

“Work our way through the people with access,” Jack said. “See if anyone’s been acting out of the ordinary.”

“Glowing eyes and megalomaniac tendencies?” Daniel asked. “Might not be all that out of place for some of the faculty.” 

Jack found himself smiling, his smile growing when he saw Daniel relax at his response. It was going to be okay, wasn’t it? 

“Short of an MRI,” Jack said, “that’s our best bet.”

Daniel nodded, then turned his attention to his backpack for a moment, pulling out a book the size of a brick with a well-thumbed look to it. So much for conversation, Jack decided, as he watched the professor become lost in its text within a matter of moments. But somehow Jack couldn’t find it in his heart to begrudge him these moments of calm, since who knew what would happen next?

\---------------------

The familiar surroundings of the Oriental Institute seemed oddly different this time around, Daniel decided. He was back in his office, having fended off Isobel with a plaintive request for a late lunch, working on a list for Jack of exactly who had access to the storage area in question. It was pretty much off the beaten track, even for people involved with the faculty, so there were relatively few people on there lower than assistant professors and obviously the janitorial staff couldn’t be ruled out. 

Not that there had ever been any problems with acquisitions going astray before, not that he knew of, which seemed to indicate there was something special about _this_ item. Or maybe Jack was right and it wasn’t the jar at all. He didn’t like that idea either. 

Daniel looked up from his list to where Jack was pacing, moving steadily between the two bookcases that marked the outside walls of the office, the movement almost hypnotic.

“What if we’re looking at this the wrong way round?” he asked. Jack halted, partway across the room, looking puzzled. “We’re assuming the missing jar was stolen by someone because it was valuable, which it is. But what if the jar was stolen because of its contents? Because it had some other significance than what it _used to_ contain?”

It took a moment for the difference to sink in, but Daniel found it entertaining that he could tell when the proverbial penny dropped and Jack understood what he meant.

“They stole the jar because they’d already been affected?” Jack looked thoughtful. “Then why not take the other one as well?”

Daniel looked down at his list, wondering if he could cross off some of the names he’d already written, then up again to where Jack was still standing. 

“There must be something about that jar in particular, then.” He began to rummage through his backpack, looking for the now-battered folder of photographs. “Something about that jar that isn’t on the one we have.” 

“Nothing else is missing from the shipment but that jar?” Jack asked. 

Daniel found the folder, and then spread the photographs out on the surface of his desk again, quickly separating out the ones he’d taken with the two jars side by side. 

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “But I’d need to check the inventory for the rest of the acquisitions that came in with the jars to be sure.” Daniel looked at the photographs carefully. “The stoppers are different, of course,” he continued, “but somehow I don’t think it’s that. They could be from any set of jars, so it needs to be something unique to these.”

Jack was trailing his finger down the photograph, following the row of symbols that marked the middle of the jar, gold markings on a band of white that ran down from the stopper to the base. 

“It must be something to do with the symbols,” Jack said. “They’re in the Goa’uld language, in case we hadn’t mentioned that.”

“No, you hadn’t,” Daniel said. “Though I should probably have guessed.” He looked at the photographs again, and then turned to the shots of the now-missing Duamutef jar, picking one of them up, before something occurred to him. “If I’m right, Jack, and the jar was what they needed … wouldn’t they just take it and go?”

“Maybe.” Jack had sat down, looking thoughtful again. “Though they might have stuck around for a little while, just to make sure their new host wasn’t immediately suspected.” 

“Then I guess when Isobel gets back, we need to ask if anyone hasn’t turned up for work.”

It was almost an anti-climax when Isobel got back from her errand and informed them that nobody had seen Dr. Steven Rayner since the previous day. 

“That’s not like Steven,” Daniel said, as they went back into his office with the lunch Isobel had brought them. “He doesn’t like to deprive anyone of his presence, unless there’s a damn good reason for it.”

Jack said nothing, but found himself wondering just how Daniel had put up with the guy for the length of time he apparently had, if he was such an asshole. Though that might work out well for him, he reasoned, since Jack O’Neill had no illusions about his own ability to act like an asshole as well—certainly Sara had told him that was what he was often enough, and he’d realized after a few things he’d done that she was probably right. If Daniel could put up with one asshole, then his tolerance level for Jack’s behavior just might be high enough to give them both a chance to get some enjoyment out of their time together. 

Daniel seemed to have a certain cynical fondness for Steven Rayner as well, though some of the things he’d said—along with quite a few he’d implied—made Jack wonder whether he wouldn’t prefer to take Rayner into a quiet alley somewhere and beat the crap out of him. Certainly Rayner had clearly done a number on Daniel’s self-esteem along the way, and that was looking like an unforgivable sin in Jack’s eyes. 

Damn, he already had it bad, didn’t he?

“So, if he’s gone, the question has to be: where to?” Daniel asked, picking up the second half of his sandwich, since he’d almost inhaled the first.

“If he’s left the country,” Jack said, “we can track him using his passport. If not, then his credit cards will leave a trail.”

Daniel ate a couple of chips, looking thoughtful; Jack was certain there was a question waiting to come out when he was done. He wasn’t hungry, he’d figured that out quite soon after their lunch had arrived, but the news that his former lover was now host to a parasitic alien didn’t seem to be doing much to daunt Daniel’s appetite. 

“How much would Steven be aware of what’s going on?”

He’d wondered when that question would be asked, and in some ways Jack was relieved to have the chance to deal with it now, before they were actually facing Steven at some point, glowing eyes and all.

“Depends on who you talk to, Daniel,” he said. “The Goa’uld themselves say they’re in complete control, that nothing of the host survives.” Jack knew how those words sounded, had heard them from the mouth of more than one host, but he couldn’t help expressing the concept the same way regardless. “Personally, I’m not convinced.”

“Oh?” 

Daniel had put what was left of his sandwich down on the waxed paper and was watching him intently now, eyes sympathetic. Somehow Jack didn’t find it difficult to keep talking. 

“A friend of mine,” Jack continued. “Got taken in an early mission, back before we scanned everyone coming back to the base, and did some damage before we figured out he was a host.” He took a mouthful of soda, wetting a mouth gone suddenly dry, aware of Daniel’s intent gaze. “I’m sure that sometimes Charlie was in control. How could he be, if the Goa’uld were right and he was gone? They’d like us to think they’re that powerful, but I’m not buying it …”

Jack found himself fidgeting with a stray chip, crushing it between his fingers.

“And your friend?” Daniel asked, quietly, sounding as if he already knew the answer. He probably could tell exactly how it had all worked out, from Jack’s response. “Maybe it’ll be different this time round,” he said, when Jack didn’t reply. 

“You can’t believe anything it says, Daniel,” Jack said, suddenly aware of what he was doing. He brushed his hands on his pants legs as he spoke; Daniel needed to know how serious this was, how much he had to listen and learn from Jack’s own experience. “You need to work on the assumption that they lie, all the time. And they know everything the host knows, so there’s plenty of material to support their lies.”

Daniel made a face at that, and Jack knew he’d been right to say it. Steven knew enough of the skeletons in Daniel’s closet to cause more trouble than Charlie Kawalsky had ever been able to cause for him. And Jack would happily put a bullet in Steven’s head before he messed with Daniel’s mind any more, if it was the last thing he did, Goa’uld or not. 

“I’ll make some calls,” Jack said. “Thank Isobel for lunch, would you?” He balled up the half-eaten sandwich and lobbed it toward the nearest wastepaper basket. It dropped short, hitting the edge of the basket and proving heavy enough to spill out the contents. “Oops.”

“Make your calls,” Daniel said, getting up from his chair. “And I’ll check if anything else has been taken.”

Jack had disappeared from Daniel’s office while Daniel was clearing up the mess he’d made, and he didn’t see him again for a couple of hours. He’d begun checking the inventory directly against the actual acquisitions that had come in with the jars, discovering something else was missing as well—an ornate cartouche that Daniel only vaguely remembered seeing when they first unpacked the whole lot. As far as he could recall, they hadn’t taken any photographs of it yet, so all Daniel had to go on was his memory of an inscription; if he remembered correctly it had a bunch of symbols resembling the ones on the jars. 

Once that had been established, Daniel had spent the rest of his afternoon catching up with his paperwork, done some negotiating to get his tutorials covered for a few more days and spent time placating Isobel. 

Understandably, Daniel found his secretary was less than keen on the idea of him leaving again, and while she didn’t express her opinion of Jack O’Neill out loud it was pretty much clear in her expression. It could only have been worse if Jack had openly sassed her at some point, in which case Daniel would now be trying to figure out how to hide his body. 

“First Dr. Rayner disappears, and now you’re leaving again?” she’d said. “Dr. Jackson, this is intolerable!”

In some ways, Daniel agreed wholeheartedly. He didn’t want to leave, except that there was nobody else who knew Steven as well as he did. And he couldn’t face the idea of Jack trailing Steven without him, particularly since he definitely _did_ know what Jack thought of his former lover. Daniel couldn’t blame him, really, because when he was particularly angry at Steven he felt exactly the same way—it was only when he was just being aggravating, rather than plain annoying, that Daniel could forgive him the worst of his faults. 

Maybe he’d been to blame as well, a little. Daniel had often wondered if he brought out the worst in Steven Rayner, or at least allowed him to get away with all sorts of crap he wouldn’t have tolerated from anyone else. They’d known one another for so long that there were probably all sorts of instances of bad behavior that Daniel had dismissed as him “just being Steven.” 

He couldn’t help feeling sorry for Steven now, though, despite the multitude of his faults. Nobody asked to become the host for a parasitic alien with plans to conquer the world, not even someone as arrogant and egocentric as Steven Rayner. And if Jack was right, if something of the host was still in there, Daniel was determined to not only deal with the situation Steven found himself in but also deal with the Goa’uld that had created it. 

There was a knock at the door. Daniel looked up as Isobel opened it, with Jack O’Neill literally standing right behind her. She’d positioned herself directly in his path, Daniel saw with some amusement, so he couldn’t get past her without shoving her out of the way or asking her to move. She wasn’t the most svelte of ladies and there literally wasn’t room in the doorway for both of them.

“Colonel O’Neill is here, Dr. Jackson,” Isobel said in her most mellifluous voice, as if the colonel in question wasn’t standing right behind her. “If you’re not too busy.”

He suppressed a grin, wondering just what Isobel would do—what Jack would do—if Daniel said he was too busy to see him right now. 

“No, I’m fine,” he said, finally. Now was not the time to test that particular theory, unfortunately, but maybe he’d get the chance some day … “Come in, Jack,” he said. Isobel deliberately stepped aside, letting Jack past where she stood. “Thank you, Isobel.”

Jack’s expression told Daniel all he needed to know concerning how the colonel felt about his secretary, and he held up a quelling hand when Jack was about to speak. 

“Where is he?” Daniel asked, deciding that changing the subject was probably the safest way to proceed. He liked Isobel and he didn’t want to have to deal with Jack maligning her for doing her job, even if the way she did it wasn’t always completely predictable. 

“He’s heading for Egypt.”

\---------------------

At least there weren’t any direct flights from Chicago to Cairo, so Dr. Rayner had been forced to take a connecting flight and in this case, he’d chosen to fly to Heathrow first and change there. 

That would give him and Daniel time to get there not far behind Rayner, rather than taking the risk of putting out an alert to have Rayner apprehended somewhere along the way because he was too far ahead to be stopped. Jack couldn’t be sure he was a host, though it was looking more and more likely, and who knew what else he’d managed to get his hands on as well as the jar, if that was the case. 

Instead, he’d have Rayner watched and they could just follow his trail from Cairo airport, wherever it was he was headed. What with the missing jar and the other thing Daniel told him that Rayner had taken, it seemed likely he was heading somewhere specific and it was bound to be much easier to just follow along afterward and catch him in the act. 

Daniel seemed to take all this in his stride, as Jack had expected, and it wasn’t all that long before they were back at Scott Air Force Base, then airborne heading towards the Atlantic. This time Jack had the pleasure of watching Daniel sleep for a significant portion of the trip, seemingly unaffected by the loudness of the transport plane on which they’d hitched a ride. It wasn’t the most comfortable of planes, but Daniel had curled up on a row of seats and was currently fast asleep under Jack’s watchful eye. 

He seemed years younger when he was sleeping, and the thought of what they’d done together just hours before seemed to fit poorly with the quietly snoring professor. But Jack couldn’t help but accept they were the same man, even as he remembered just what it had felt like to make Daniel moan with pleasure and his own body responded to that memory as well. 

“Down, boy,” he said to himself. Sara had always accused him of being possessive and it wasn’t a quality Jack found particularly attractive, in himself or in other people. The last thing he needed to do was to get stuck on Jackson, considering that once all this was over they’d be parting company. 

Daniel shifted in his sleep, rolling over onto his back on the narrow row of seats, the contortion required to keep his balance making Jack hold his breath. It had been a while, thanks to his knee, since Jack remembered being quite that flexible. The movement also made Daniel’s shirt ride up, exposing a patch of skin just above the waistband of his pants, enough to draw Jack’s attention like a moth to a flame. 

Jack closed his eyes, forcing himself to think about dealing with Rayner instead. Anything but what Daniel was making him think about, even if the other man had no control over that. Rayner was headed somewhere specific, one way or another—either he was a host and was looking for something the Goa’uld inside him wanted, or he was a treasure hunter looking for something he believed the jar and the cartouche would lead him to. 

If he was a Goa’uld host, then the list of options was pretty narrow. What would a snake want, other than weapons, a sarcophagus or a way off the planet? All three were potentially disastrous, if they fell into the wrong hands. He could only hope this was about Rayner wanting to get one over on everyone, as Daniel seemed to think could still be the case, and he was just following a good lead to some hidden treasure that would make him as famous as the guy who’d discovered Tutankhamen’s tomb. 

Now, Jack told himself, he should probably follow Daniel’s example and try to get some sleep. He had a feeling, treasure hunter or Goa’uld host, Dr. Steven Rayner was still going to be a handful. And he needed to be as ready as he could be to deal with the guy, for both his and Daniel’s sake, particularly if he wasn’t going to just cap the guy for what he knew about both his past and present behavior.

\---------------------

Daniel was disoriented for a moment when he woke, forgetting that he’d accompanied Jack onboard a USAF transport plane he was assured was headed for an airbase in Egypt. The noise should have reminded him, though—it was hardly first class travel, what with the vibration and the lack of amenities. Jack was on the other side of the small compartment they occupied, stretched out across a row of seats, as Daniel himself had been only moments earlier. Had he looked as uncomfortable then as Jack did now? 

The door into the compartment opened, and one of the crew of the plane stuck his head in.

“We’re starting our descent soon,” he said, glancing over at where Jack slept. “You should wake the colonel.”

Daniel nodded and the man disappeared, the door closing behind him. He was halfway across the compartment to Jack when Jack stirred, flailing a little before he caught hold of a conveniently placed strap and pulled himself vertical again. 

“I’m awake,” Jack said. “I think.” He looked at his watch, squinting a little in the poor light. “We’ve made good time.”

“How long was Steven’s layover in London?” Daniel asked. 

“At least six hours,” Jack replied. “Assuming the plane to Cairo left on time.” He stretched without getting up from his seat. “We’ve got someone waiting for him at the airport,” he continued. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Daniel said, as he fiddled with the seatbelt in preparation for the descent. “Not about losing track of Steven, anyway.”

Jack looked grim at that and Daniel was certain he understood, and probably shared, his worries. He’d seen someone he knew turned into a host for these Goa’uld and Daniel hadn’t—Jack was probably worried about how he was going to react, if that was what they found when they finally confronted Steven. 

Well, Daniel would have admitted he wasn’t sure himself, but he had no intention of letting either Jack or Steven down—even if Steven was a host, he deserved to be rescued if that was possible, regardless of what a jackass he’d been at times. Nobody deserved that fate. 

“When was the last time you were here?” Jack asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. 

Daniel thought about that for a moment before answering. 

“Three years,” he said, once he’d done the math. “It was the first trip abroad I was able to take after Professor Jordan died.” Jack nodded and Daniel took that as encouragement to keep talking. “My appointment to succeed him came later, much to Steven’s annoyance.”

“He wanted the job?”

“Steven always wanted everything I did, and he usually got it at some point. Often before I did, if he could manage it.”

Jack snorted, his face telling Daniel just what he thought of that kind of glory hound behavior.

“I’ve known a few guys like that in my time,” he said. “Most of them don’t last out the long haul.”

“Steven has a Porsche.” He found himself laughing at Jack’s reaction to that statement. That was pretty much the face Daniel thought he’d made when told the news himself. “Really. He sold the rights to some awful popular archaeology book about the Holy Grail and its connection to Ancient Egypt or something, and that was one of the things he bought.”

“So there’s money in other things than grave robbing in your line of work?” Jack asked, his expression wry. “Who knew?”

“If you’re prepared to sell your soul, Jack,” Daniel replied. “I’d expect there’s money to be made in every line of work, if you’re not too bothered how.”

\---------------------

When they’d landed at Cairo-West Airbase, Jack found there was already a message waiting for him. Steven’s plane had arrived on time and he was currently waiting to go through immigration, which would take a while. Time enough for him and Daniel to get some food and then head for Cairo themselves. They were only twenty-five miles from the airport, after all, and with someone watching Steven they had a reasonable chance of not killing themselves in the process of finding out exactly what it was that he was up to. 

It didn’t take long, though, before the two of them were in a borrowed jeep, heading for a rendezvous just outside the city—they’d been told Steven was in a rental car, headed south from the airport toward Cairo itself. From there, it seemed likely he’d head into the desert, south toward Saqqara or west toward the pyramids on the Giza plateau, and for either of those destinations he’d need to pass where Daniel and Jack would be waiting. 

Not the best way to spend a morning, Jack decided, as he and Daniel settled down to wait in the shade of an abandoned building, but it seemed like the easiest way of making sure they knew where Steven was headed. They hadn’t waited long when Jack’s satellite phone rang. 

“He’s on his way,” Jack said, when the brief call had ended. “Dr. Rayner should be passing us in about ten minutes, give or take.”

Those were incredibly long minutes, each approaching vehicle scrutinized carefully as soon as it came close enough to tell buses and trucks apart from cars. Finally, a dusty dark brown car passed where they were parked, and Jack recognized the driver from the photograph he’d seen. 

“That him?” he asked, starting the jeep’s engine. Daniel nodded, then braced himself as Jack took off after the car almost before he’d finished the gesture. 

“He’s heading for the plateau,” Daniel yelled, as Rayner’s car took the turn towards Giza.

Jack didn’t respond, concentrating on avoiding the chaotic Egyptian drivers and keeping an eye on where Rayner was heading himself. In the direction of Giza, Daniel was right about that, but where exactly was he going? Surely not to the Great Pyramid—that was too populated an area, unless the Goa’uld was planning to take hostages—so where would Rayner go, if what he’d taken was some kind of key …

The car in front of him slowed and Jack did likewise. He didn’t want to get too close to Rayner, not while there were other people about. Better to let him get where he was going and then follow him, since he had a feeling the guy was headed somewhere there would be few witnesses, whatever it was he was in search of. 

Sure enough, just before the village that marked the entrance to the main site, Rayner’s car veered off and headed over a bumpy track northwards again. Cursing, Jack went straight past the turn, but there was nothing he could do. If he’d managed to follow the rental car, he would have tipped Rayner off that he was being followed and lost the element of surprise. 

“What’s out there?” he yelled at Daniel, who was hanging onto the map they’d picked up at the airbase. “North of the village.”

Jack turned the jeep at the first possible place, waiting impatiently as a couple of tour buses passed more slowly than he’d thought any vehicle could possibly go. 

“Not much,” Daniel replied, his hands busy with the map. “The other side of the village and the pyramid of Khufu, there’s the western cemetery but that’s out in the open.” He looked at the traffic then, as if seeing it for the first time. “I bet Steven’s looking for something a little more hidden.”

Jack nosed the jeep onto the road, ignoring the yells and horn blasts from a couple of taxis, and headed back to the track Rayner had taken. As the jeep bumped its way up the rise, he wondered just how Rayner thought his rental car would handle it; even the jeep was struggling at points, wheels spinning on the loose sand as Jack followed the tracks where the car had been forced to go. 

“Would you look at that?” he said, suddenly, braking the jeep at the crest of a rise. Sure enough, the rental car was abandoned a little further down the slope, driver side door wide open and engine still running. “He can’t be far now.”

Jack pulled the jeep in behind where the car was parked, though there was little chance of it getting out of there without being towed. Daniel had hopped down from the passenger side as soon as he’d stopped, and was crossing cautiously over to where the rental car stood. 

It took every ounce of self-control that Jack possessed not to get out of the jeep and tackle Daniel to the ground, since he didn’t seem to realize just how dangerous a situation he was heading into, but he just stopped the jeep’s engine instead, put on the parking brake and pulled out his sidearm. 

Daniel had reached the car, which was clearly empty, and he reached in and shut off the engine. Silence fell, even though they were still quite close to the tourist bustle of the Giza plateau. They could have been a thousand miles into the desert, instead of just a few miles from one of the wonders of the world.

\---------------------

In some ways, Daniel supposed he’d hoped Jack was wrong. He’d hoped that it wouldn’t be Steven out here, heading for an unknown destination, stolen artifacts in hand; the best-case scenario was that he was a thief, the worst that he was now the slave of a parasitic alien. But he’d seen Steven driving the car that had sped past them, the car that lay abandoned with its engine idling when it finally stopped being able to negotiate the sand dunes on the way to wherever it was that Steven was going.

Jack would probably have yelled at him, if he’d realized what he was going to do, but Daniel was already out of the jeep and moving almost before they’d stopped. The car had been empty, of course, and he shut off the engine almost automatically. Ahead, in the direction Steven had been driving, footprints led over the next ridge and disappeared. 

Jack came over to where he stood, holding out a revolver with the butt pointed toward him. 

“Drugged darts,” he said, when Daniel wouldn’t take it. “Unless you’d prefer the real thing?” Daniel took the weapon then, feeling its unfamiliar weight in his hand. “You do know how to use it?”

“I know enough,” Daniel replied, accepting the holster Jack gave him next and strapping it on. This was less familiar but he glanced at Jack and soon the sidearm was against his hip, the unaccustomed weight feeling oddly out of place. “If it comes to that.”

Jack turned to put himself directly in Daniel’s path, so he was forced to stop.

“If it’s him or you, Daniel,” he said, “don’t make me wish I’d shot you myself.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly the declaration he might have wanted to hear, but Daniel could hear the thought behind it. He had no intention of letting Steven get the better of him either, but he also wasn’t that much into shooting first and asking questions later. 

“Fair enough,” he said. “But we don’t know he’s a host.”

“We don’t know he isn’t,” Jack replied, and then he turned and headed up the sand dune. “And if he isn’t,” he continued, without looking round, “what does that say about Rayner trying to crack your head like an egg?”

There really wasn’t an answer for that, or at least not one that would make sense to anyone but himself, Daniel decided as he followed Jack. 

The sand slipped beneath his boots as they descended the slope on the other side, the trail of Steven’s footprints giving the indication that he knew exactly where he was headed. That, and the apparent desperation driving him, seemed to weight the situation toward the idea that Steven was a host, that the Goa’uld that now ruled his every decision knew just where it was going; Daniel wasn’t sure whether the idea his former lover had no choice in what he was doing was a comfort of any kind. 

They climbed the next rise more cautiously; Jack crouched at the top of the dune, motioning with his hand for Daniel to come up alongside him. When he reached the top as well, Daniel could see why—the other side of this particular sand dune, Steven Rayner had stopped. He squatted about a hundred and fifty yards away from them and was brushing the sand from something, that something a vaguely pyramidal shape about three feet to a side; he dug down until the shape rose from the surrounding sand to waist height when he stood again. 

Steven took something from his pocket then, something from which the sun caught a glint of gold—it had to be the stolen cartouche—and then bent once more, pressing the cartouche against the side of the pyramid. For a moment, nothing happened and then there was a vibration, the sand grains slipping from the top of the rise where he and Jack crouched and rolling down toward where Steven stood. 

Steven took a few hasty steps back as well, snagging the backpack he’d apparently dropped earlier, and now he was moving much faster—running back the way he’d come. Beside him, Daniel heard the slight susurration as Jack pulled his sidearm and he followed suit, reluctantly. If Steven got close enough, this could all be over sooner than anyone would have thought.

The vibration had changed pitch, deepening into a throb, and Daniel’s attention was torn from where Steven now stood. The sand around the small pyramid was moving, breaking up as deep cracks appeared in it, and then it began to rise, inexorably. 

“Son of a bitch,” Jack said, beside him. “It’s a ship.”

It took a moment for Daniel to figure out what Jack was talking about, but when the pyramid had risen thirty or so feet more, emerging relentlessly from the sand that had buried it for what had to be thousands of years, he could see that Jack was right. It was some kind of a ship, pyramid shaped, looking like the stone that made up the other pyramids that lay across the Giza plateau, but surely it could not be stone underneath that?

Steven stood there, watching it rise, his head tipped back and arms spread as if he was welcoming its emergence. Just a little too far out of range, Daniel guessed, or Jack would have shot him by now—he must have presented a perfect target, standing out in the open like that. Then Steven was moving again, circling the still-rising edifice, and Jack was hauling Daniel to his feet as well, in pursuit.

“We can’t let him leave, Daniel,” Jack said, his voice barely audible over the vibration. The grip he had on Daniel’s sleeve left no room for misinterpretation. “No matter what happens.”

\---------------------

By the time that the pyramid-shaped ship stopped rising, finally, Rayner was already out of sight. Jack moved down the sand dune as quickly as he could, feet slipping in the loose sand; he was aware of Daniel’s presence behind him, also hurrying. They had a limited window to get inside and deal with Rayner before he managed to get the ship ready for take-off; the fact that it had even risen from the sand the way it had, something Jack wouldn’t have believed possible if he hadn’t seen it for himself, was enough warning that it was probably space worthy as well. 

Following Rayner’s tracks was, at least, an easy way of knowing where the entrance to the ship was. The more that he saw the guy do, the more certain Jack was that he wasn’t just an opportunist, he had to be a host—Daniel might not like to consider that, would want to hold out hope that he was just lucky, but Jack couldn’t feel so sure. All he needed to see was Rayner’s eyes glow once and he’d be certain, but he’d settle for taking the guy alive before they got to that, if he could. 

Daniel was the unpredictable element in all this, though, the wild card who made it impossible for Jack to go in there like every instinct was telling him to. He knew just how the “shoot first and ask questions later” approach would go down with the professor and the last thing Jack wanted was an argument over ethics. That was why he’d loaded their guns with hypodermic darts, confident that would please Daniel’s liberal streak as well as giving them a good chance of capturing Rayner and finding out exactly what he, and the thing inside his head, knew. 

They paused by the ornate doorway, the two of them leaning back against the stone—it was still cool from where it had lain beneath feet of desert sand. 

“Follow me,” Jack said, taking the safety off his sidearm. 

He waited until he saw Daniel mimic his movement, and then moved carefully around into the entrance. It was lit inside, at least, the low dim light gleaming fitfully off the elaborate decorations on the walls. Daniel moved silently behind him, and for some odd reason this gave Jack much more reassurance than he’d expected it would—for all their likely ethical differences, he trusted Daniel to do the right thing.

The entrance was one long corridor, tracked-in sand showing where Rayner had initially entered, but there was little sign of his presence beyond that. It seemed likely he’d be headed toward the center of the ship, where the controls were, but they had to be cautious—this was a guy who hadn’t hesitated to assault his own colleague, and former lover, if it served his purposes. 

They reached a half-open door at the end of the corridor, and even if everything in him screamed that this was probably a trap, Jack knew they had to take a chance. Inside, the same dim lighting showed just a low metal console, a few blinking lights confirming that the ship was at least partly functional, but no sign of Rayner. 

Jack pushed the door cautiously, and it slid open without a sound. He took a step into the room, gun in hand, conscious of Daniel following him. It was empty, no doubt about it, but by the look of the place it hadn’t been empty for long.

“The jar,” Daniel said, pushing past him. He hurried over to where the abandoned artifact lay, putting his sidearm down on the console as he bent to pick it up.

“Daniel,” Jack began. There were two quick sounds in succession behind him, then a searing pain between his shoulder blades told him Rayner was sneakier than he’d thought. Jack toppled forward, never knowing when he hit the floor.

\---------------------

Daniel stood, cradling the abandoned Duamutef jar. Jack was slumped on the floor, a smoking wound between his shoulder blades—he’d hit the floor hard, and the gun he’d been holding had skidded across the floor to end up about ten feet in front of where Daniel stood. Steven, on the other hand, was standing in the doorway, an odd weapon in the palm of his outstretched hand. 

“Is he dead?” Daniel asked, amazed at how calm his voice sounded. 

“Extremely,” Steven said. “But I wouldn’t worry about him, if I were you, dear Daniel.”

He had two choices—his abandoned weapon on the console, or Jack’s gun on the floor—but neither of them was particularly convenient for someone holding a canopic jar in both hands. 

“And this,” he said, taking a step towards Steven and holding out the jar. “Was this worth nearly killing me for?”

“More than you know,” Steven said. His voice changed then, eyes taking on an eerie gold glow—Jack had described both effects, but those words hadn’t conveyed the horror of seeing someone you knew affected that way, or the realization they were no longer in control. “I needed it, since it told me where my ship lay. That you have followed me here is an unexpected pleasure.” Something in that inflected voice told Daniel that pleasure was likely to be one-sided.

“You didn’t want the other jar, did you?” 

“I had no need of it, not once I realized that the one inside it no longer lived.” The voice was cold, calculating in a way Steven had never been, even at his most arrogant and self-serving. “The host can be revived easily enough, but not one of us, not after all this time.”

Daniel had been watching Steven, watching him advance into the room and circle round where Jack’s body lay, cross over to the console and collect Daniel’s gun, but there was something about what the Goa’uld had said that intrigued him.

“The host can be revived?” he echoed. “You mean you could bring Jack back to life?”

“I could,” Steven said. It was still enough like him to boast, then, or the Goa’uld had their own particular arrogance which wasn’t too far from what Daniel knew Steven was more than capable of. “If I chose to do so.”

“Please, Steven.” The words stuck in his throat, but Jack’s life was worth the price of a little humiliation. It had to be. “Help him. For my sake.”

“Steven is no longer here,” the Goa’uld said. “I am Osiris, and I will do as I choose.” It paused then, gleaming eyes examining Daniel as if seeing him for the first time. “You beg prettily, though. It has been so long …”

Osiris moved nearer then, until he was close enough that there was nowhere for Daniel to go but to take a hasty step back. At least Osiris was between him and Jack’s body now, so he didn’t have to see the way Jack lay there, limp as a puppet whose strings have been cut. 

“You have Steven’s memories, don’t you?” Daniel asked. He still had the canopic jar, clutched in front of him as if it was a shield, though he knew it wouldn’t help much if Osiris decided to act rather than talk. “Then you’ll know I can do much more than beg.”

He was playing for high stakes, here, Daniel knew. Steven had been bad enough, with sufficient ego to keep everyone in the faculty wondering what he’d do next, but Osiris was an unknown quantity. 

“Much more,” Daniel continued. “Given the right incentive.”

The expression on Steven’s face—Osiris’ face, since Steven had never worn quite that look, or at least not in Daniel’s experience—was positively avaricious. 

“Something can be done,” Osiris said, after another long look. “Bring him.” He took a couple of steps back, weapon raised in Daniel’s direction. “But rest assured, I expect any promise to be kept, in full.”

Daniel put the canopic jar down carefully, and then crossed hastily to where Jack lay. Jack’s body had started to cool, his face already taking on a waxy pallor, and that sight strengthened Daniel’s resolve. He was certain Jack would have been arguing with his decision, if he was around to argue, but since he wasn’t in any position to present alternatives, he’d just have to put up with what Daniel had done. 

As Daniel himself would have to, knowing that he had literally just made a deal with the devil.

\---------------------

Jack slammed back into consciousness, sucking in deep and extremely unexpected breaths as he gasped for air. He was sure he’d been dead, so how was it he was now apparently alive, and not only alive, but uninjured? He was inside something, something metal if his questing fingers were correct, and even as he explored the surface above him, it began to move. It slid soundlessly to one side, letting in light and allowing Jack to sit up.

It looked horribly like a coffin, this thing he was in. It took a moment, but then Jack realized what it had to be—one of those Goa’uld sarcophagus things. He’d seen them on a couple of the big mother ships, when the USAF had tangled with Apophis, that time when the System Lord hadn’t got away from them. But he’d never been inside one, since the only one they’d ever managed to recover had been shipped off to Area 51 with the rest of what was left of the crashed ship.

The last thing Jack remembered was standing in the doorway of that control room, about to tell Daniel to leave the jar alone and pick up his sidearm, and then he’d heard a zat gun at close range. Close enough range that Jack was certain he’d heard it blast a second time just after the first had already been enough to make his muscles lock and he’d toppled forward, heading for the floor. So how was he inside this thing?

Daniel. Where the hell was he? And how had he figured out that there was something onboard this ship that could revive him? Jack realized the error in his logic almost immediately—Daniel couldn’t have known that, so he had to have had “help” from the Goa’uld. Except the Goa’uld never did anything that didn’t benefit them, so what did they stand to gain by bringing someone who was clearly their enemy back to life?

He was clambering out of the sarcophagus, already cursing the loss of his service weapon, when there was a sudden shift and lurch forward—it felt like the ship had been struck by something, making everything resound and shift simultaneously. Jack clung to the edge of the sarcophagus till the universe settled down again and then headed for the door. 

This one wasn’t locked, so if the Goa’uld expected their doohickey to do its job, then maybe Jack was ahead of schedule? It was no prison cell, anyway, and that was something to be thankful for. 

Otherwise, the whole situation wasn’t looking too good. No weapons for either of them, a functioning spaceship, and a Goa’uld who was determined to get the hell out of Dodge. That was a one-way ticket to places Jack didn’t much want to visit and, worse than that, Daniel was likely to be tagging along for the ride. 

He didn’t even consider the possibility Daniel might already be dead—somehow, that seemed impossible. If he could survive, Jack reasoned, Rayner would have even more reason to keep Daniel alive, if only because of the desire to torment someone. Like a cat with a mouse, the Goa’uld seemed to thrive on having someone to torment, and since Jack hadn’t been available he was sure Daniel would do just as well. If not better, considering his previous relationship with Rayner. 

Outside, when he was standing in the corridor, Jack could hear voices. They were coming from the control room, whose door was fully open now—the other side of it, looking across the console, there was a view screen and it was full of stars. Not stationary but rushing past, blurred with movement. That explained the lurch Jack had felt earlier; they’d gone into hyperdrive and were definitely on their way to some undesirable location.

Jack edged closer to the door, keeping his back pressed against the wall. He wanted to find out just what was going on, before the Goa’uld realized he ought to be awake and came looking for him—it was just his luck to have a fast metabolism, even where Goa’uld devices were concerned. 

“Why should I believe anything you say?” That was Daniel, and Jack felt himself relax at the sound of the familiar voice—Daniel was annoyed, which wasn’t unexpected, but annoyed was good. Hell, upright and conscious was good, considering the way Jack himself had been treated. “You have access to Steven’s memories, so you could be rifling through his thoughts even now, picking something choice so you can pretend to be him.”

“You have been lied to, Daniel,” Jack heard another voice say. That was Rayner then, or the Goa’uld pretending to be Rayner. “The one whose body this once was chose to share it with me. Freely.”

“You want me to believe Steven chose to let you take him over?” Daniel asked. “You can see his memories, so you know he’d never do anything like that. And you know I’d know it as well.”

Rayner didn’t answer for a moment, and Jack hesitated as he stood listening. If he’d had a weapon of any kind, he’d have taken his chances, rushed the room in the hope of getting control of the situation. But he had no weapon and Daniel was in there, probably right in the line of fire. Besides, he’d already been dead once and that was more than enough for one day. 

“It is unimportant what you think,” Rayner said, sounding resigned. “What matters is what I want. The agreement you made with me, Daniel.” That was more like the familiar arrogance of the Goa’uld, even if it was still Rayner’s voice. “Unless you intend to go back on your word …”

\---------------------

Daniel didn’t much like the taunting tone Osiris was taking with him now, but it was hardly any surprise—what had been less expected was the previous effort he had made, to try and convince him that this was all Steven’s idea. That idea didn’t hold water, though in hindsight maybe it had been a little unwise for Daniel to say so in as many words?

He wondered where Osiris had stashed their weapons, but as he’d put Jack in the sarcophagus and watched it close over his lifeless body, Osiris had left him alone. By the time he got back to the control room, the guns were gone and the ship was powering up. Any thoughts Daniel might have of intervening with Osiris’ plans to go wherever it was they were going had been forestalled by the Goa’uld raising the weapon he’d used on Jack with one hand as he tinkered with the spaceship’s controls with the other. 

The ship had leapt from the sand, its trajectory steep as it headed upwards and out of Earth’s atmosphere faster than Daniel would have thought possible. He wondered if they were being tracked, if even now the base he’d visited not days before had the ship on some kind of radar while they traveled further and further from home. He didn’t want to think about where they might be going, because somehow there was little chance their destination would be somewhere he’d ever want to find himself. 

Still, no matter what he’d had to do in order to get that agreement, at least at some point he should have Jack there with him. Alive and well, if Osiris was to be believed. That thought was enough to give him a lot more confidence in how likely it was that either of them might survive this little trip. 

“I hope that you intend to be … cooperative,” Osiris was saying. 

There was something about his voice, the odd resonant quality of it still at odds with the emphasis of his words. As if he didn’t feel able to force compliance from Daniel, even though the weapon he held meant that he probably could, but wanted him to go along with whatever it was the Goa’uld had in mind with some semblance of willingness. 

“I made a deal,” Daniel said. “Another bonus of being in Steven Rayner’s head for you—you should be able to see that I’m a man of my word.” 

Even if he didn’t really want to keep this particular promise, even if the thought of what he’d agreed to for Jack’s sake made his skin crawl. 

Osiris was apparently satisfied with the plans he’d made for their journey, and turned his attention fully from the controls with which he’d been busying himself till now. 

“I know many things about you now, Daniel Jackson,” he said, taking a step closer to where Daniel stood. It took a degree of self-control Daniel wouldn’t have thought he possessed not to step back as the Goa’uld moved forward inexorably. 

Another step and Osiris—Steven—was right there in front of him. If it hadn’t been for the telltale gleam of gold, the slightly inhuman tilt of the head, it could have been Steven. Except there was also nothing human in those eyes any more, nothing to give any indication that Jack was right and something of the host survived. If Jack was right and it hadn’t just been wishful thinking on his part.

Osiris moved quickly; one hand came up to wrap its fingers in Daniel’s hair, pulling his head uncomfortably to one side. That was just a prelude to a crushing kiss, a jarring clash of teeth against teeth as the Goa’uld pulled Daniel towards him, the weapon he held pressing hard against Daniel’s stomach even as he thought of pushing Osiris away. Daniel froze, knowing the penalty for disobedience and considering it much too high. The parody of a kiss was brief, but still much longer than Daniel could have ever wanted, Osiris then moving his attention to Daniel’s neck.

“Many interesting things.” The words were hissed in Daniel’s ear, then a tongue lapped at the skin of his neck, making him shudder. He felt the weapon move against his stomach, shifting upwards, and then he heard it fire. “But maybe later,” Daniel heard Osiris say, as his body spasmed and the world turned head over heels and inside out.


	4. Chapter 4

If there was one thing Jack was certain of, it was that he didn’t like much about what he’d heard so far. It wasn’t the most comfortable place on the ship, jammed up against the wall just outside the control room, but it had two advantages—it allowed him to hear without being seen and he figured it also give him the best chance he had of jumping the Goa’uld some time soon. Thoughts of that, of getting the chance to pound on Rayner to his heart’s content, let Jack distract himself a little from the implications of what he’d overheard. Not enough, though, to stop him putting two and two together and coming up with a result Jack found hard to stomach. 

Daniel had made some kind of deal to get him revived and if he didn’t do something about it soon, Osiris was going to take him up on it. And wouldn’t all of that be something he’d be discussing with the good professor as soon as he got the opportunity? Jack had been poised to intervene, even if the price of that intervention was a high one, when he’d heard the zat weapon fire just once, and then the sound of a body hitting the ground. 

Well, at least that put party time off for a while, giving him more time to figure out how to get control of this situation before they landed somewhere the Goa’uld would have Jaffa to back him up. Jack had been in those kinds of scenarios before and, unless you had inside help, they rarely ended well. He’d been lucky on occasion, finding Jaffa who didn’t want to play that particular game any more, but luck was all it was. They couldn’t bank on that kind of luck being on their side this time round.

Still, there was nothing like the direct approach. 

“If you want to play with someone,” Jack said, stepping out of cover and into the control room doorway, “then why didn’t you wait till I was awake?”

The Goa’uld spun to face him, his expression a mixture of surprise and fury that made Jack grin. He could tell that his own expression caused annoyance and so he carried on grinning, even when he wanted to stop. Even when he spotted Daniel, sprawled on the floor near the control console, curled in an uncomfortable looking position. 

“Kneel before your god,” the Goa’uld said, eyes blazing now. “I am Osiris, Lord of the Sky.”

“Don’t think so,” Jack said. Mind made up, he crossed to where Daniel was lying, pretty much ignoring the Goa’uld even as the skin between his shoulder blades itched again where he’d been blasted last time around. Daniel was breathing, that was good, and he was clearly unconscious. “At least, not now I’ve seen how you treat your playmates.”

“He is mine to destroy,” Osiris said, his tone full of derision. “As are you, Tauri.” He raised the zat gun, clearly ready for round two. “I can take his life as easily as I might swat a fly and with as little consequence.” The zat was aimed at Daniel now, its head flaring dangerously. There was no telling what effect a second blast would have, this close together, and that wasn’t a risk Jack was prepared to let Daniel take. “Do not test my patience.”

“Okay,” Jack said, raising his hands. “You got me.” He moved across to the view screen, hoping to draw Osiris’ attention from Daniel and had to suppress a smirk when the Goa’uld’s eyes and weapon followed him, like he’d wanted. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“My armies await me, Tauri.” It was probably the confident tone that drew Jack’s attention—this wasn’t a boast, it was an expression of belief. “And then I shall crush my enemies beneath my feet.”

“Just how long were you in that jar, bub?” Sure, snake baiting was a potentially dangerous game, but in Jack’s mind there was nothing like it to get the adrenaline pumping. Or to buy time while he looked for a chance to turn the tables on this smug son-of-a-bitch. “Things have changed out there.”

Of course, the idea of telling Osiris all he knew didn’t rate highly on Jack’s to-do list, but anything that could put the egomaniac currently inhabiting the body of Steven Rayner off his stride was good enough to try. 

“Nonsense.” A light began to flash on the console, drawing Osiris’ attention away from Jack. “See, my armies await the opportunity to welcome the return of their god.” He pressed a nearby button and the view screen flared into life. 

“ _Tal shal mak!_ ” As Jack had expected, it was a Jaffa who spoke, snapping out the words. 

“Your god has returned, Jaffa,” Osiris said. The Jaffa’s eyes widened at the response, which was clearly not what he’d expected. “Osiris returns to you.”

\---------------------

When consciousness returned and Daniel opened his eyes, it took a moment for him to realize something had changed. There was no vibration, no sensation of movement as there had been when Osiris had shot him with the weapon he’d used on Jack; Daniel knew he’d never really expected to wake. Even if he was potentially more useful to Osiris than Jack, because of the unwise promise he’d made in return for the slight possibility of Jack being revived, there was still a significant chance the Goa’uld’s more egomaniac side would just find it too easy to kill him too. 

“Jack?” He had to know, after all, if the device had worked as Osiris promised. If not, then Daniel wouldn’t consider himself bound in any way by the deal he’d made. 

“Here,” said a voice Daniel had realistically never expected to hear again. “And before you ask, I’m fine.” Jack was there, crouching beside him. “Though there’s a hell of a draft between my shoulder blades.” 

“Where are we?” Daniel asked, as he started to sit up. Jack moved to help him without a word, his hands on Daniel’s arms until he could see that Daniel was able to sit up on his own. “We’re not on the ship, are we?”

“Give the man a cigar,” Jack said, getting up from where he’d been crouching beside Daniel. “We’ve landed.” 

“Landed?” Daniel asked, aware even as he said it how idiotic it sounded. “Where could we possibly go?”

Jack was pacing now, crossing and re-crossing the small space in front of where Daniel sat. He couldn’t see a barrier, but if Jack hadn’t left this small alcove, there must be something to stop him. That was the only thing that made sense, even in a universe peopled with parasitic aliens, working spaceships, and devices that brought the dead back to life. Daniel felt like his brain was stretching to comprehend it all. 

“Somewhere we don’t want to be,” Jack replied. “Somewhere a bunch of warriors were just waiting for your boy Osiris to turn up and lead them in a crazy crusade to overthrow the other Goa’uld.”

“I see,” Daniel said, though he didn’t, not really. It was bad enough that the Goa’uld thought they were gods of some kind, but they had followers that obeyed their every word? No wonder they all apparently suffered from delusions of grandeur. “What happened to me? Did Osiris put me in the sarcophagus as well?”

That made Jack stop, even when Daniel’s other questions hadn’t. He was standing with his back to the light, so his face was in shadow, but there was still enough for Daniel to see that Jack wasn’t at all happy and that the object of his unhappiness was Daniel himself. And he had a pretty good idea what it was that Jack might be unhappy about …

“You only got shot once,” Jack said. “Once stuns, twice kills, three times gets rid of the body. No need for the doohickey.” He paused, as if looking Daniel over. “Good thing too, considering some of us aren’t really in the business of selling our asses whenever the need arises.”

“I don’t see what choice I had,” Daniel said. Curiously, he was almost glad the subject was out in the open, even if Jack was pissed with him over it. “Not much else to bargain with, remember?”

Jack snorted, turned his back on Daniel and stared out into the corridor. Not much traffic passed this way, wherever here was, or so it seemed. Daniel hadn’t seen or heard anyone since he’d woken up—it was just him and Jack, stuck here in some backwater until their presence was remembered. And somehow, Daniel was pretty sure they’d prefer being forgotten, even if that had other drawbacks. 

“I’d have thought of something,” Daniel said, though he wondered who he wanted to reassure. “But playing to Steven’s ego was always the best way to get him to do something he didn’t want to.” He got to his feet, crossing over to where Jack stood, close enough to touch but not quite. “And, considering the outcome, I don’t see what gives you the right to be pissed.”

\---------------------

Daniel was right, of course. That was probably the most annoying thing about the whole situation. It was a monumentally shortsighted thing, making that kind of deal with the Goa’uld—no matter whose body Osiris was inhabiting, he still had all the honorable instincts of a half-dead rattlesnake—but what choice had Daniel really had? The alternative would have been to be stuck on that ship alone, and Jack could see just how that wouldn’t be all that appetizing an option. 

“Okay,” he said. “End of subject. Now let’s see if we can get the hell out of here, shall we?”

He wasn’t sure how they were going to do this, but he had no intention of sticking around to see just what Osiris had planned for either of them. If he knew the Goa’uld, Jack was certain that neither of them were going to like whatever Osiris had decided, though possibly for very different reasons. 

Somehow, he expected his own death to be bloody and drawn out, particularly once Osiris heard what the USAF had been up to with his fellow System Lords. At the moment, fresh from his unintended rest cure, Osiris didn’t know how much havoc the Tauri had caused and how many metaphorical scalps they’d taken, but it couldn’t be long before one of the Jaffa let something slip. Daniel’s fate was likely to be equally unpleasant, though he was probably going to learn to regret the arrangement he’d made with Osiris long before the Goa’uld grew tired of him. 

“How exactly are we going to do that?” Daniel asked, peering out into the deserted corridor. He leaned a little too far forward, then turned before jerking back as his arm brushed the force field keeping them in. “Owww! You could have warned me!”

“You’re the professor, Professor,” Jack said, as he took hold of Daniel’s arm and pulled him a little closer to where he stood. “I thought you’d figure it out on your own.”

Daniel was tugging at his other sleeve, turning the material as if to reassure himself no real harm had been done. 

“Don’t assume stuff, Jack …” Daniel began. 

He only stopped talking when Jack pulled him around so the two of them were face-to-face, taking the opportunity to kiss Daniel as thoroughly as he could manage. Jack let go after a couple of minutes, smiling to himself when he saw how flustered the professor looked now, and how Daniel appeared to have lost track of his previous train of thought completely. Which suited Jack just fine, really it did. 

“You really think we can get out of here?” Daniel continued. There was a hopeful tone in his voice, a tone that bolstered Jack’s confidence immensely—it seemed to say that if Jack said it, then Daniel knew it must be true. If that was the case, that was definitely an ego boost, and one he probably didn’t deserve. “How will we get back to Earth?”

“Let me worry about that,” Jack said, letting go of Daniel’s jacket reluctantly. He’d grabbed a handful of the material to manhandle him, and the crumpled handprint was still there, testament to what they’d just done. No regrets on his part, and as far as Jack could tell, Daniel wasn’t objecting much either. “Getting out of this cell is the first problem.”

“Let me help with that difficulty, Tauri,” a new voice said, and Jack’s instinct was to put himself between that voice and Daniel, except that he knew Daniel wouldn’t thank him for being treated like a damsel in distress. “If you are willing to hear me out, of course.”

The owner of the voice was a Jaffa, one who clearly was as cat-footed as the most skilled of those warriors Jack had previously encountered. He was solidly built, his dark intelligent eyes flicking over both of the prisoners, confidence in his own abilities written large on every inch of his substantial body. 

“Who are you?” Jack asked. “As for the other stuff, we’re all ears.”

The Jaffa looked at him curiously for a moment, as if considering that last statement.

“I am Teal’c,” he said. “I am First Prime of the god Nepthys. Until your coming, she ruled this planet.”

“The sister of Osiris,” Daniel said. “Not that this stopped her from having a child with him, of course.”

“Of course,” Jack said, dryly. “And where is this Nepthys now?”

“As a lesser System Lord,” Teal’c said, “it is her place to subjugate herself to Osiris now he has returned.” He looked annoyed at this. “And so the Jaffa of Osiris also take precedence over the loyal followers of Nepthys, as if they had not been leaderless rabble for centuries long past.”

“That sucks,” Jack said. Not that he could drum up sympathy for squabbles between the Jaffa, even if there was a chance they could use this in some way to help them escape. “And your point would be?”

The Jaffa took a step closer to the cell, his hand coming up to rest on the wall at a point level with his chest. There was a fizzing buzz and the force field disappeared. 

“My point, Tauri,” Teal’c said, “is that I have had enough of kneeling to one Goa’uld and have no desire to do so to another.”

Jack hesitated for a moment, uncertain how he should react. He was conscious of Daniel’s presence beside him, not to mention the curiosity that almost burned from the professor toward their new “friend,” but could they really trust him? He’d met Jaffa who wanted to be free, but some of them had not proved true to their word. Jack was also conscious how far the two of them were from home. Did he really have a choice?

\---------------------

It didn’t take very long before Daniel realized what Jack was doing, even though he’d been subtle about it. He was pretty much keeping himself between Daniel and this newcomer, this Jaffa—hadn’t he said his name was Teal’c?—even though he had to know that was probably futile if the man wasn’t who and what he said he was. 

“The Jaffa serve the Goa’uld?” Daniel asked. Teal’c nodded. “Why is that? Is it some kind of hereditary service?”

Jack intervened then, though Daniel couldn’t see why.

“No time for all of that now, Daniel,” he said. “You’ll have to satisfy your curiosity later, when we’re out of here.”

Teal’c hadn’t answered anyway, and the stoic expression on his face gave Daniel little confidence he’d get a straight answer out of him any time soon. 

The three of them headed down a maze of corridors, one that reminded Daniel of Cheyenne Mountain more than he’d expected could ever be the case. If he’d given any consideration to what corridors might look like on what Jack had assured him was another planet. 

“Weapons first,” Jack said. Teal’c looked at him for a long moment, as if he almost regretted what he’d done in setting them free, then turned and led the way without another word. “It’s the only way we can know,” he continued, speaking in a low tone that Daniel was pretty sure the Jaffa couldn’t hear.

“Know what?” Daniel replied, even though he thought he already knew what Jack was thinking. 

“If we can trust him.”

And that was the thing, wasn’t it? This could all be some elaborate game on Osiris’ part, setting them free only to torment them with the idea of escape and then recapturing them just when they thought they could get away. Not an idea Daniel wanted to think about, but he couldn’t fault Jack’s reasoning. Even if he hoped Teal’c was a man of his word. 

This was all so far out of his comfort zone that surely a little more oddness didn’t really matter—so being trapped on an alien planet, ruled by homicidally psychotic alien parasites in human hosts, served by loyal hordes of warriors seemed hardly anything to be concerned about. Or at least not any more than Daniel had been concerned since the moment he’d walked into the spaceship that had brought him and Jack here in the first place. 

“Don’t worry,” Jack said, suddenly, as if he knew the direction Daniel’s thoughts were taking. “I’ve been in worse situations than this and I’m still running around.” 

And that was reassuring, unexpectedly so. Because despite all the weirdness they’d gone through together, he trusted Jack O’Neill more than their relatively brief acquaintance ought to make reasonable. Maybe it was the mind-blowing sex, when they had the chance to get horizontal, or maybe it was just the quiet air of competence that hung around him, only slightly obscured by the wisecracking. All Daniel hoped was that he could keep up his end of the bargain they seemed to have struck, and not let Jack down in some way he couldn’t currently foresee. Still, he’d already essentially saved his life once, back on Osiris’ ship, so that had to count for something. 

“Here,” Teal’c said, halting beside a door and passing his hand over the control panel. The door slid open, revealing racks of weapons—some familiar, like the one Osiris had used on both of them already, some less so. He’d seen the Jaffa who imprisoned them carrying those long weapons but while they might have impressive firepower, they were hardly designed for stealth. 

Daniel wasn’t surprised when Jack passed them by completely; he picked up one of the smaller weapons, handing it to Daniel without any hesitation before taking one for himself and shoving it into the waistband of his trousers. He helped himself to a couple of other items too, which Daniel could only assume Jack knew from his previous encounters with the Jaffa. 

“So, Teal’c,” Jack began, when he’d pocketed those items and pulled out the smaller weapon again, powering it up and pointing it at Teal’c. “How about you tell us why you’re really doing this?” Teal’c didn’t move, but his eyes were watchful. “Because I’m not buying this whole resistance thing you’re trying to sell me.”

“I cannot help what you believe, Tauri.” Teal’c’s voice was calm, too calm for a man potentially facing his own death. “Only that I swore an oath, that I will die free.”

Jack studied him for a moment, and then powered the weapon down, apparently convinced by whatever he’d seen in Teal’c’s stoic façade. 

“Okay,” he said, “maybe you _are_ what you seem.”

\---------------------

He’d been suspicious, probably because it was in his nature, but this Teal’c seemed like the real deal. After all, Jack had a lot riding on his ability to figure out whether this was just some twisted game or a real attempt to get him and Daniel out of here before Osiris remembered where they were stashed and decided to have some fun. 

They’d encountered Jaffa who weren’t happy with their lot before, of course, but they’d been few and far between. The Goa’uld usually stamped out any inkling of revolution among the ranks with ruthless efficiency, so it wasn’t the healthiest thing for a Jaffa to admit they were having second thoughts. 

“Who told you about us?” he asked, curious. “I mean, we don’t get around this part of the neighborhood too much …”

Teal’c paused for a moment and Jack got the feeling he was being looked over by the Jaffa, as if to decide if he was trustworthy or not.

“There is one among us, I believe you know of him,” Teal’c said, finally. “He is Bra’tac, formerly First Prime of Apophis.”

Jack snorted. 

“Of course I know the old coot,” he said. “But how do you know him?” 

They’d left the armory behind now, heading towards the quieter parts of the palace—or at least that seemed to be the direction they were taking, considering the lack of traffic in these parts. 

“He is my mother’s uncle,” Teal’c replied. “And I spent much of my youth in his house.”

“Youth?” Daniel asked. “If you don’t mind me asking …”

Teal’c paused, checking cautiously round the blind corner of a corridor. 

“I am ninety-six of your Tauri years,” he said without turning, apparently oblivious to the response this matter of fact statement would probably receive.

“Ninety-six?” Daniel spluttered, clearly almost lost for words. Jack smiled, wondering how often that happened—not very often, he was certain of that. “That’s … that’s remarkable, Teal’c.”

“Must be all that clean living,” Jack said, before changing the subject. “All clear?” Teal’c nodded. “Where are we headed, anyway?” he continued. 

“Out of the palace,” Teal’c replied, “by the safest, if not the shortest route.”

Jack couldn’t argue with that. If Teal’c was on the up and up—and if he was really related to Bra’tac, there was a good chance of that—then the best place for all three of them was out of there. Then he’d try and figure out what they were going to do next, because in the longer term nowhere on the planet would be safe once Osiris realized they were gone. 

Soon after, they left the palace behind them and headed down the hill towards a more ramshackle group of buildings, which apparently housed the Jaffa. Teal’c led the way through the warren of gray stone houses until he reached a particular one, pushing the door open to it without a moment’s hesitation. Daniel followed him in, Jack taking the rear and closing the door before he turned to survey the interior.

It was basic, to say the least. A small fire burned in a hearth on one side of the house, while the pallet that lay adjacent to the shorter of the walls was ragged and looked like it had seen better days. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Jack said, gesturing to encompass the small house. 

Teal’c inclined his head, as if accepting the statement as a compliment. 

“Be nice, Jack,” Daniel said. “We’re guests, after all.”

“What now?” Jack asked.

Teal’c was rummaging in an alcove, sorting through clothes that hung from hooks there for a few moments, before turning to his two visitors with familiar-looking cloaks. 

“If we are to have a chance of reaching the Chappa’ai,” he said, “you must cover yourselves.”

Daniel took the garment from Teal’c’s hands without a moment’s thought, then Jack followed suit. He wasn’t convinced he liked this plan, if you could call it a plan, because no amount of camouflage was going to get them past a Jaffa guard if there was one on the Chappa’ai. And if there wasn’t one already there, one would be posted as soon as Osiris realized they’d escaped. 

“I don’t think this’ll work,” he said, even as he donned the robe. Anything he was about to say was drowned by an odd noise from outside, a wailing howl that seemed to come from some kind of instrument. Jack would have admitted he was no musician but that wasn’t music, more like an alarm. 

“That sounds like a shofar,” Daniel said, tipping his head to one side as if considering the sound.

“I don’t much care what it is, Daniel.” Jack pulled the robe around him properly as he spoke. “It means they know we’ve escaped. And that’s bad.”

\---------------------

They were left alone in the small house for a few minutes, while Teal’c went outside to see if trouble was waiting for them when they emerged. Whatever this Chappa’ai was that Teal’c was talking about, it was somewhere they had to be in order to get off the planet and have any chance of getting home; it didn’t take an expert on strategy to know that Osiris would know that as well and be taking steps to stop them. 

“You should know,” Daniel began, crossing to where Jack stood, “that I don’t regret any of this.”

Jack looked at him, as if he was speaking a foreign language, and then rubbed a hand tiredly over his face.

“You might feel different later,” he said, looking more tired than Daniel had seen him. Human, for the first time really, and worried enough that it was almost infectious, if Daniel would let it be. “I’m sorry I dragged you along.”

“You didn’t hold a gun to my head,” Daniel said. 

Mind made up, he closed the distance between them, taking advantage of Jack’s surprise to kiss him, reassured when Jack’s arms moved around him after a moment’s delay. Jack’s body was warm and solid against his, the embrace an unspoken promise between them; they’d come this far and Daniel had to believe they could survive whatever lay ahead. 

“We’re in this together, Jack,” he continued, when the kiss came to an end, though they were still entwined. “Don’t forget that.”

He felt Jack’s laugh, a brief movement, through the length of the body still pressed against his own. 

“Like I’ve got a choice,” Jack said. “But it’s not over till the fat lady sings.”

Teal’c returned then, and they separated reluctantly, though the Jaffa didn’t comment on how he’d found the two Tauri and Daniel was glad for his diffidence. 

“We must depart,” he said. “Osiris’ Jaffa are leaving the palace.”

“Damn it,” Jack said, pulling the weapon from under the robe he was wearing. “Teal’c, take point.”

The Jaffa nodded, heading out of the doorway again and into the darkness beyond. Jack nodded briefly at Daniel, who felt the universe almost lurch around him at the expression on Jack’s face just for that moment, before following Teal’c. Daniel brought up the rear, pulling his own weapon as Jack had done, even though it felt odd to do so. They couldn’t take the risk of being captured if there was anything they could do about it.

Of all the things he’d done, Daniel couldn’t find it in his heart to regret the deal he’d made with Osiris, even if it had consequences for him at some point in the near future, since it had saved Jack’s life. He’d have gone through with whatever the Goa’uld wanted for that, and thought it a fair price to pay for the possibility of the two of them getting off this rock together. 

They saw the Jaffa before they heard them, one coming out from the shadows, staff weapon flaring, and driving them toward the others where they waited. 

“I guess I should say ‘take us to your leader,’ ” Jack said, as one of the Jaffa pulled his unused weapon from his hand.

\---------------------

After all the posturing of the Jaffa, coming into where Osiris was sitting, waiting for them, was almost an anticlimax. At least it seemed Teal’c was the real deal, if the backhander he’d been given by the Jaffa leading the search party was anything to go by—if Teal’c hadn’t been built like the side of a barn, he’d have gone flying, but there was still blood on his lip where it had split beneath the blow. 

“Kneel before your god,” Osiris said, and the Jaffa hastened to make them obey him, shoving the three of them down to their knees.

Jack grabbed Teal’c’s arm and held him in place, scowling at him when he tried to rise—now was not the time for heroics, not when they had a bunch of trigger-happy Jaffa just itching for a reason to blast away. 

“You guys need some new dialogue,” Jack said, hoping to keep Osiris’ attention on himself. The more he could do that, the safer it was both for Daniel and for their new, hot-headed friend. He knew Teal’c was probably sincere with this “live free or die” business, but he preferred other mottos to that one. “All that megalomania has gotta sap your taste in good lines.”

This time Jack was the one who was on the receiving end of a blow, as Osiris raised a hand and a beam of pulsing light blew him across the chamber to slam painfully against the back wall. His head hit the wall with a sickening crack. The world spun around him as he tried to get his bearings, though he was certain could hear Daniel yelling at Osiris more clearly than anything else.

“No!” That was Daniel all right. “We had a bargain, didn’t we?”

Damn it, Daniel. Now wasn’t the time to go bringing that up, if there ever was going to be a time. Jack struggled to his feet, pushing with one hand against the wall to right himself. 

“I do not bargain with slaves,” Osiris said, his voice echoing with the full Goa’uld resonance that Jack had come to know and loathe. That never boded well for the person on the receiving end. “I allowed you to revive that one because it amused me to humor you, not because of any agreement between us.”

“You can call it whatever you want,” Daniel said, pressing on regardless. “Please, let me help him.”

There was silence for a moment, which Daniel clearly took for permission. Jack felt an arm go round him, giving him some assurance of which way was up and where the action was. 

“Daniel, don’t do this,” he began, not certain what it was that Daniel was doing but knowing that if the Goa’uld were involved it wasn’t going to be good. Not for any of them. 

“Trust me, Jack,” Daniel said quietly, helping him back to the center of the room. Teal’c was there, still kneeling, and he half-rose to take Jack’s weight from Daniel as Jack felt himself slump to the floor once more. “Thanks, Teal’c.”

“You are welcome,” Teal’c said, his voice rumbling through Jack’s body as he spoke. 

It took an effort to focus on Daniel, who was kneeling again; he made it look like it was both something he did every day and nothing special. What was less ordinary was the expression on Rayner’s face—on Osiris’ face, when the eyes glowed—as he stood over Daniel. In his experience of dealing with bad people, Jack had thought he’d seen everything possible, but the look on Osiris’ face, glowing eyes or not, sent an icy shiver down his spine. Whatever he had planned for Daniel, whatever Daniel wasn’t arguing about as much as he ought to be right now, wasn’t going to be good.

“Jaffa, remove them,” Osiris said, not taking his eyes from Daniel. Daniel himself didn’t look round, even when Jack tried to struggle loose from the grasp of two Jaffa, but merely stayed kneeling in front of the Goa’uld, as if involved in some bizarre staring match. “Then leave us.”

\---------------------

It was a major risk, Daniel knew that, but what choice did he really have? He could still hear Jack yelling his name as the Jaffa dragged him down the corridor and away from this chamber, but with an effort he’d ignored that and kept focused on Osiris. On the scrap of Steven he was certain he could see, somewhere within the Goa’uld’s host, who he could encourage to come out if the incentive was right. 

“Now what?” 

Daniel wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer but he had to ask all the same. Osiris took a step closer, reaching out with a hand bare of the weapon that had thrown Jack across the room. He took hold of Daniel’s chin, long fingers—familiar long fingers, that had once trailed across Daniel’s skin in quite different circumstances—gripping it almost painfully.

“I want to speak to Steven,” Daniel said. The fingers tightened, digging into Daniel’s jaw until he was certain he’d cry out with the pain, but somehow he managed not to. “Not to Osiris. Just to Steven Rayner.” The words were distorted but Daniel could tell Osiris understood them regardless. 

The grip eased, then Osiris stepped back again. The eyes lost their glow; the expression of Steven’s face became both more familiar and more uncertain , as if he was seeing where they were for the first time.

“Daniel? Where are we?” Steven looked around, puzzled. “What is this place?”

Daniel didn’t move from his knees. This could be another of Osiris’ games, to persuade him that this was Steven when formerly he’d been insistent that only Osiris was there, that nothing of the host survived. This definitely _sounded_ like Steven Rayner, but how could he be sure when the Goa’uld inside him had access to all of his memories?

“Somewhere a long way from home, Steven,” Daniel replied, and then stood, cautiously. Steven didn’t respond, still looking around him as if he had no idea how he’d got here; there was no answering blast from the Goa’uld’s weapon as a result of his movement. “What do you remember?”

“Not much,” Steven admitted, turning his attention back to Daniel now. “Except odd things, like something out of a dream.” He still looked puzzled, which was an unfamiliar expression for him—Daniel was so used to Steven looking utterly sure of himself that he didn’t quite know what to make of this version of his former lover. “You were there; I stole a canopic jar from you.”

“You did,” Daniel said. He’d moved, edging round slowly until he was between Steven and the door. The Jaffa had obeyed, of course, leaving him and Osiris alone together. “Do you remember what happened before that?”

“No.” Steven seemed to think for a moment. “Who are those people with you? The men they took away?” 

The two realities were bleeding together, Osiris’ memories and Steven’s—or were they one and the same?—meshing together to create a confusing whole. He’d never met Jack, of course, since he’d already been a host and had been long gone before Daniel had returned to Chicago with Jack in search of the missing jar. As one of Nepthys’ Jaffa, Teal’c would be a stranger too, even if this planet was his home. 

“Nobody you know,” Daniel replied. 

Something told him that the truth would be too much for Steven to hear, that Daniel admitting who Jack was and what he meant to him would tip him over the edge, letting Osiris take over once more. Assuming Osiris wasn’t allowing all this to go ahead anyway, confident he could get back in the driving seat any time he liked. 

“What did I do?” Steven asked. He was starting to look panicked now, another unfamiliar expression, and despite himself, Daniel felt some sympathy for the man. He might have been an asshole in the past, but he’d found himself in a real fix this time around and it was quite possible there was no way out, for either of them. “Daniel, tell me!” His eyes flashed then, showing that Osiris had returned and taken over once more. “Yes, Daniel,” he said. “Tell me.” 

Osiris’ tone was mocking, no shade of Steven’s previous panic remained in it, and Daniel felt himself becoming angry for the first time. He’d been too busy being worried about Jack before, or concerned about what might happen to all of them, but this callous reminder that the Goa’uld had so casually taken over someone he used to care about pushed him close to the edge. 

He took a step forward, but Osiris was ready for him, bringing up the palm that held the weapon he’d used on Jack. Like his eyes, the weapon flared an ominous gold, and Daniel halted in his tracks. He was angry, but not out of control.

“Now I know,” Daniel said. “More than Jack knew, that’s for sure.”

“Know what, Daniel?” Osiris asked, hand still raised. “That you should be on your knees before me, rather than on your feet?”

Daniel snorted at that, crossing his arms in defiance. He had no intention of kneeling again, not without a squad of Jaffa there to make him. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell which of you is talking, Steven,” he said, the words deliberate. “You always did have a monstrous ego, so I guess not much has changed

\---------------------

By the time they were in the cell once more, Jack had almost shouted himself hoarse. It had taken two of the Jaffa to drag him down the corridor and he’d yelled Daniel’s name all the way, not so much because he believed that Daniel could hear him but because he could tell it was bugging the Jaffa. 

Teal’c helped him up from where the Jaffa had half-thrown him into the room and Jack dusted himself down, shaking out the borrowed robes he was still wearing. 

“He can no longer hear you, Tauri,” he said.

“I know,” Jack replied. “Now let’s just figure out how we’re going to get out of here. Again.” 

He pressed a hand experimentally to the force field, feeling its sting for a moment before he had to move his hand away. 

“Ideas?” he continued. “Anything?”

“I have none,” Teal’c said. He looked resigned to his fate, and that was a look that really didn’t suit him.

“Don’t worry, big guy.” Jack stood as close to the force field as he could, craning his neck to see up the corridor down which they’d just come. “I have a feeling the cavalry is on the way, but it’s probably just going to take some time.”

Teal’c lowered himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged; he looked for all the world as if he belonged there. His dour expression didn’t change, though, and Jack had to turn his back on the guy so the mood wasn’t contagious. They’d get out of there, he was certain of it. 

Osiris still had no idea who he was dealing with when he took on Daniel Jackson, even with Steven Rayner’s memories of him—after all, those memories were colored by Rayner’s arrogance and belief that Daniel wasn’t a match for him. 

That would be his undoing, Jack was certain of it; one of Rayner’s apparently many faults was that he’d consistently underestimated Daniel. There was nothing to say that he wouldn’t continue to do so, and if he did then Jack was certain Daniel would both know that and take full advantage of that knowledge. 

So it was just a matter of time. Jack looked around the cell, at Teal’c, then at the ceiling. 

“I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with J …”

\---------------------

“And you were always such a good little boy. Doing what Professor Jordan asked, doing your duty no matter what.”

The glow had faded from Steven’s eyes and Daniel wondered whether this was supposed to make him believe this was Steven talking, not Osiris. He had to figure that Osiris was completely in control, though; even when he’d allowed what seemed like Steven to make a brief appearance, he'd gone on to demonstrate the ease with which he could take over once more. 

The subject in question was familiar, though, since Steven had told Daniel on more than on occasion that he should have put his own interests before what was best for the department and yet he'd never managed to give a convincing reason why Daniel should. Nothing convincing, anyway, since Daniel considered his promise to Professor Jordan to be a binding one; nothing Steven could possibly say would be likely to make him change his mind about that. 

“Maybe so.” Daniel kept an eye on Osiris’ hand device as he spoke, wondering what range it had. He’d used it to blast Jack across the room, so Daniel didn’t think much for his chances of outrunning it. “I guess we balanced one another out, then. Since you always had more than enough ego for both of us.”

Steven didn’t reply for a moment, but seemed to consider him instead. The expression in his eyes, whether he was Steven Rayner or Osiris, was cold and calculating. 

“We’re old friends, Daniel,” Steven said after a long moment’s silence. “Can’t we put aside our differences? There’s so much I have to show you, here, and all of this new world can be yours to explore …”

Well, this was different. Clearly Osiris had figured out that intimidation wasn’t going to get him very far, and had decided to try curiosity instead. That would probably have worked better if Osiris hadn’t already killed someone in front of him, as well as having no qualms about attacking Daniel himself to get what he wanted. Still, there could surely be no harm in playing along a little to see where this led.

“I don’t think you have anything I could be interested in,” Daniel said. Let Osiris make some effort, if he wanted to try this particular tack. “All I want is to go home. And to take my friends with me.”

“Don’t you want to know, Daniel?” Osiris persisted, lowering the hand with the weapon as he closed the distance between them. “To know once and for all that you were right, that the pyramids are older than everyone believes?” Closer again, another step, circling where he stood until Daniel could feel the warmth of Steven’s breath on his neck. “That all the things you gave up to be Professor Jordan’s good little lackey were true all along?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Daniel said, turning to face Steven. It was a lie, they both knew that. Once, his theories had mattered more to him than anything else—more than acceptance by the rest of academia, or so Daniel had been close to proving. And then things had changed forever. “None of it matters.”

“I know you don’t mean that.” Steven’s voice was seductive. For a moment, Daniel forgot it all, everything that had happened since their relationship had finally come to an end. “I know you, Daniel. You don’t give up that easily.”

Steven’s body was pressed against Daniel’s back now, his arm snaking round to pull the two of them even closer, the evidence of an incipient erection pressing against Daniel’s ass. It was that which woke Daniel from his stupor, making him realize how close he’d come to letting the Goa’uld do whatever he wanted—how did they take a host, anyway? Jack had never said but Daniel could bet it wasn’t pleasant, not for the host anyway, and he didn’t want to run any risk of becoming Steven’s replacement.

“Apparently neither do you,” Daniel said, then brought up one elbow and jabbed back sharply. He didn’t connect very hard with Steven’s ribs, certainly not as hard as he would have liked, but the other man let go anyway and Daniel pulled away from his embrace. “Still not convinced,” he said, turning to face Steven once more.

“This is a whole new universe,” Steven continued, gesturing with the weapon-free hand. “We could explore it together.”

“And my friends?” Daniel knew the answer already, instinctively, but he needed to hear it. From this thing that wore Steven Rayner’s face.

“What about them?” Steven said. “A Jaffa and a … what is the other one, exactly?”

Daniel pondered the question for a moment, considering and discarding a dozen different answers in a moment’s thought before deciding on one he knew would get a reaction from Steven.

“Other than being a man who fucked me through the mattress the other night, you mean?” he asked, trying for an innocent tone. “I have to say, I enjoyed it more than I ever did with you, Steven.”

Daniel had never seen anyone’s face redden that quickly; the glow of Osiris’ eyes practically made him look as though he was catching fire. 

“I would have given you everything,” Osiris snarled, as he raised his hand weapon. Somehow Daniel was still certain he wouldn’t fire straight away, despite this obvious provocation, and considered his options. If Osiris did fire, there was no chance he’d miss from this range. “Everything.” But surely he’d want to have the final word, if he was true to character? 

Daniel moved quicker than Osiris had expected him to, that much was certain, grabbing his wrist and twisting Steven’s hand so that the palm faced toward himself before the other man realized what he was doing. The blast was brief, the space of a couple of heartbeats, the space between the decision to fire and the realization of pain. 

Steven hit the floor hard, then lay silent, unmoving.

\---------------------

The look Teal’c had given him after just a couple of rounds of I Spy had been enough to make Jack shut up, but even so it wasn’t long before he heard footsteps heading toward the cell at speed. 

“Jack!” Daniel said, skidding to a halt in front of the cell doorway. He slapped his hand on the wall control and the force field dropped. “Come on, we haven’t much time.”

“Osiris?” Teal’c asked, getting up from where he’d been sitting. 

“Out for the count,” Daniel replied, with a grin. “At least, I hope so.”

Jack shook his head. He’d expected Daniel to pull some kind of stunt, or at least hoped he would, but now it had happened he wasn’t sure what to make of the professor. 

“But we need to take him with us,” Daniel continued. “Come on.”

He’d headed back up the corridor, Teal’c running along behind him, before Jack realized what Daniel was saying and followed the two of them back toward the chamber where Osiris had been. There was no sign of the Jaffa, which was odd. Osiris had dismissed them, of course, but somehow Jack had expected they’d stay within earshot.

“We've got to get going,” Daniel said, as Teal’c picked up Rayner’s unconscious body. “Hold on,” he continued, taking hold of Rayner’s hand and removing the weapon from its palm. Daniel slipped it into his pocket, and then crossed to the doorway once more. “All clear.”

“What did they do with our guns?” Jack asked, as the three of them moved down the corridor, heading for the exit once again. 

“No idea,” Daniel replied. 

They paused at a junction, where Teal’c was clearly considering the different options. Jack laid a couple of fingers on Rayner’s carotid artery, and felt the steady pulse of life there. He had no idea what Daniel had done to him, but whatever it was, it had been fully as effective as Jack had expected it would be. He’d have to remember how sneaky Daniel was, filing that thought away for the future. Now it looked once again as if they were going to have a future. 

“Where are the Jaffa, Teal’c?” Jack asked, moving to peer down the corridor as well. 

Teal’c shrugged, the movement making Rayner’s body jerk a little where it was slung over one strong shoulder. The Jaffa carried Rayner like he weighed as little as a child. 

“Osiris dismissed them, but they should not have abandoned their posts in this manner.” He looked down the corridor, then shook his head and led the way in the other direction. “However, the Jaffa of Nepthys and of Osiris do not associate with one another.” There was a clear implication from Teal’c’s terse words that he would not have been so unprofessional as to desert his post this way. 

Jack followed him, with Daniel walking alongside. They walked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound their quiet footsteps on the stone floor. 

“Did we do the right thing, Jack?” Daniel asked, suddenly. “Bringing Steven with us, I mean. Is there any hope?”

Jack glanced across at Daniel as they continued down the hallway. 

“I don’t know any way of separating the Goa’uld from their host,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” Daniel’s worried expression grew as he spoke and Jack found he didn’t like that at all. “Just that we don’t know how.”

Daniel looked thoughtful, then nodded, as if he’d made up his mind anyway.

“We couldn’t leave him here, though, could we?” he asked. “If there’s even the slightest hope that Steven could be rescued some time in the future, surely that’s better than leaving him here, with Osiris in charge?”

He was looking for reassurance, that much was clear. Reassurance from Jack, of all people, the last person he ought to be trusting with the fate of anyone else, if Jack’s track record was anything to go by. Not that Daniel knew this; Jack wasn’t sure it would have made all that much difference to him if he had—there was something accepting about Daniel, something that made Jack certain he could confess anything and Daniel would take it all in his stride. He might not like some of it, but he’d accept it all as part of who Jack was. There was something comforting about that notion.

“I’m sure Osiris wouldn’t agree with you,” Jack said, smiling when those words provoked a wry grin from Daniel in response.

\---------------------

As they left the palace, they found they’d walked into the middle of an unexpected firefight. Teal’c, still carrying his burden of Steven’s unconscious body, crouched low and kept the broken down wall of long-abandoned buildings between them and the Jaffa who were fighting, while Daniel and Jack followed his lead. Even from this distance it seemed clear that there were two distinct sets of Jaffa involved in the skirmish, one bearing the same mark on their foreheads that Teal’c bore, the others like those who had been serving Osiris.

“It would seem,” Teal’c said, when they paused to survey their options in the shade of a half-demolished house, “that my brothers too have lost patience with the Jaffa of Osiris.”

“What gave it away?” Jack asked, then held up a hand as Teal’c was clearly about to respond. “Don’t answer that.” 

It was clear, Daniel decided as he listened to their exchange, that sarcasm was not part of the Jaffa vocabulary. Not that this was much of a surprise if they had been serving the Goa’uld for generations—they seemed like a fairly literal-minded bunch. 

“Where are we going, anyway?” Daniel asked. He was certain Jack didn’t know how to fly Osiris’ ship and while Teal’c had mentioned something called a Chappa’ai, he hadn’t had the chance to find out what that was. “Because I don’t know about you, but I would very much like to go home.”

“The Chappa’ai,” Teal’c said. “We will use it to take us to the place where Master Bra’tac lives and then from there to the world of the Tauri.” 

Jack nodded his agreement to that statement, then slapped Teal’c on the shoulder as if indicating that he should pick up Steven again. 

“The Chappa’ai, Daniel,” Jack said. “I can guarantee it’s going to make your day.”

It was clear he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of either of them, so Daniel contented himself with following them both, skirting the edges of the battling Jaffa and heading down into the valley. Osiris’ palace—the palace that Nepthys had occupied while Osiris was trapped on Earth—was almost at the top of the hill, looking down over Jaffa houses and the valley alike. The valley itself was lush and green, heavily forested, but with a clear path winding down into it from where the Jaffa lived. 

“I do not expect the Chappa’ai will be guarded,” Teal’c said, as he led the way into the trees. 

“I hope not,” Jack said. “Considering we have no weapons.”

Daniel slipped his hand into his pocket, feeling the warm metal of Osiris’ weapon underneath his questing fingers. He didn’t know how it worked and so he wouldn’t want to have to rely on it in an emergency—for all he knew, only the Goa’uld could use it, since he hadn’t seen any Jaffa with anything like it. 

They emerged from the trees into a sunlit open space, dominated by a huge gray stone ring. Daniel stopped suddenly, making Jack step around him hastily to avoid a collision; as he looked round at Jack, Daniel saw he was grinning.

“What the hell is that?” Daniel asked, all his attention drawn to it. He took a couple of steps closer, then spotted the squat device that sat in front of the ring. “And that. What is that?” 

Teal’c and Jack had crossed to the smaller device, Jack taking the burden of Steven from the Jaffa, who then began to press a series of panels on the device. Daniel watched them glow, and then realized they somehow linked to the larger ring, since each panel carried the same symbol as one of those on the outer circumference. The inner ring began to spin, then the jutting chevrons locked, lighting orange, one at a time—the sight drew Daniel closer and closer, then Teal’c reached out and took hold of his arm, pulling him back against his will.

“No closer,” he said, the grip inexorable. 

Daniel glanced across at Jack, who said nothing, just nodded towards the Chappa’ai; Daniel turned his attention back to it, just as the middle of the Chappa’ai erupted out, gushing white and blue. Daniel had a pretty good idea now why the Jaffa had stopped him going any nearer. 

“Thanks, Teal’c.” The Jaffa inclined his head, accepting the words. “Is that really going to take us to another planet?”

“To a planet of free Jaffa,” Teal’c said, letting go of Daniel’s arm and crossing back to where Jack was hanging onto Steven. “Now let us depart.”


	5. Chapter 5

He probably should have prepared Daniel for this, but in hindsight Jack wouldn’t have traded away the look of astonishment on Daniel’s face for anything. Once he’d got over the shock himself of Daniel nearly getting evaporated by the one thing Jack _should_ have told him about. 

Teal’c shouldered his burden again with a casual ease that he couldn’t help envying—Jack made a mental note to start working out more when he got home. The Jaffa headed toward the Chappa’ai, walking up the steps to the event horizon as easily as if he was heading up the stairs into his own home, then he was gone.

“Shall we?” Jack asked, gesturing to Daniel to lead the way. 

Daniel nodded, began to follow where Teal’c had led, and then stopped in his tracks. 

“What is this thing anyway?” he asked, turning to Jack. 

“It’s got something to do with worms,” Jack replied. He really didn’t want to get into quantum physics, not now and indeed not ever; to be honest he hadn’t really been paying all that much attention when one of the geeks had tried to explain it to him. And they'd only tried to do that once. “We step into it, it takes you to another planet, that’s all you need to know.”

Daniel was about to say something else, the words almost visibly forming, when there was a sudden staff weapon blast. It ripped through the air between them and slammed against the edge of the Chappa’ai itself.

“Explanation later,” Jack said, grabbing hold of Daniel’s jacket and pulling him along as he ran, straight toward the event horizon. 

Daniel took a moment to respond, then was running as well, following Jack’s lead with a confidence and certainty that Jack was glad to see. They dived into the rippling blue together, though at least Jack was the only one of them who had an idea how bad their landing on the other side was likely to be. 

Somehow, he hit the ground first, face-first as it happened, then tumbled over at least once before measuring his length on the dusty stone floor. Daniel was right on his heels, the two of them slamming together with a good deal more force than either of them would have liked. 

“You okay?” Jack asked, when he’d caught his breath after a few moments, getting up from where they were sprawled and offering Daniel a hand. Daniel nodded, then coughed up what looked like a mouthful of dust. “You sure?”

“You do that all the time?” Daniel asked, when he’d spat out another mouthful. “No wonder your knee is shot.”

Teal’c had been waiting for them, of course, his expression anxious until the event horizon closed and it was clear any pursuing Jaffa weren’t coming through. 

“Not _all_ the time,” Jack said. “We usually make a much more graceful entrance than that, but I’m assured it’s basic physics.” Daniel stopped brushing himself down and looked at him then, quizzical. “You come out of the event horizon at the same speed you go in—step in like Teal’c did and you just stroll on through.”

“I see,” Daniel said. “I’ll bear that in mind for next time.” He was looking round as he spoke, of course; it was clear he was already more interested in examining the building in which this particular Chappa’ai stood than in hearing what Jack had to say. Jack tried not to take it personally. 

Movement at the doorway made the three of them turn, Jack’s hand dropping instinctively to a weapon he didn’t have. 

“ _Tek ma tel_ , Master Bra’tac,” Teal’c said, bowing his head respectfully toward the newcomer. 

The newcomer stepped forward, pushing back his hood and confirming Teal’c’s identification of him. Jack could tell when Bra’tac recognized him too, because he saw the Jaffa’s existing frown deepen.

“The Tauri, Teal’c …” Bra’tac began. “You brought them here?” 

“Hi, I’m Daniel Jackson,” Daniel said, stepping forward as if he felt the awkwardness in the atmosphere. Bra’tac looked down at Daniel’s outstretched hand, which Daniel withdrew after a moment, apparently unperturbed by the intended slight. “Where is here, exactly?”

“O’Neill,” Bra’tac said, addressing his words to Jack as if Daniel hadn’t spoken. “I had not expected to see you again.”

“Likewise, Bra’tac,” Jack replied. “I wasn’t planning on dropping in but Teal’c insisted we had to come by and see how you folks were doing.” He walked over to where Teal’c was standing, then took hold of Steven’s hair and used the grip to turn his head toward Bra’tac. “And you may not recognize the face, but the snake remains the same—this is Osiris.”

“Jack,” Daniel said. Jack let go, knowing what had upset Daniel and not wanting to annoy him further. Rayner’s head slapped down against Teal’c’s shoulder once more, and this time he began to stir a little, as if coming round. “His name is Steven Rayner, and he’s a friend of mine.”

“Osiris?” Bra’tac asked, clearly still determined to ignore Daniel completely for as long as possible. “Tauri, this is joyous news, that another of the System Lords has been brought low.”

Bra’tac turned on his heel, stalking out of the chamber as if he clearly expected them to follow him, which they did. Knowing the Jaffa, Jack figured that bringing Osiris here was at least good for a slap-up meal, if not any further assistance, but for now he’d take whatever he could get.

\---------------------

Bra’tac wasn’t the friendliest individual that Daniel had ever met, but then if he was really the leader of the Jaffa resistance—surely a difficult cause if ever there was one—then he probably had reason to be that way. And it seemed he’d met Jack before, if the surly greeting he’d given him was anything to go by. For a man whose job it was to make his way round the galaxy, Jack sure seemed to have a knack for making friends and influencing people. 

Within a matter of minutes the three of them were seated on low benches in a spartan room, heated by a blazing fire. Steven had been deposited on a nearby pallet and Daniel was reassured to see that he appeared to be regaining consciousness, though he was not so reassured by the weather eye both Teal’c and Bra’tac were keeping on him. Daniel wasn’t all that certain they approved of allowing Steven to wake up at all and he had every intention of intervening—for whatever good that would do—if they tried to harm him in any way. 

To them, he might be Osiris, but Daniel had no intention of allowing the disgruntled Jaffa to forget there was also a human host in this scenario. 

“Is there any way to separate the Goa’uld from its host?” Daniel asked, watching Bra’tac carefully for a response. He was certain the Jaffa wouldn’t lie to him, but he might not feel too fondly inclined toward helping someone if it didn’t quite suit whatever the Jaffa plan was. “I’m certain Steven is still in there.”

Bra’tac shook his head, the movement emphatic. His expression was still inscrutable, but at least he was no longer acting as if Daniel didn’t exist. 

“Nothing of the host survives.” The words were decisive and Daniel could tell the Jaffa believed them to be true. “And we will deal with Osiris.”

“I’m sorry, Bra’tac,” Jack said. “But we have to take him back with us. To Earth.”

Daniel looked back to where Steven lay. What could they do? He couldn’t allow the Jaffa to kill Steven in order to deal with Osiris, no matter what atrocities he might have committed, and yet the thought of taking him back to Earth didn’t seem right either. Steven was already suffering a life sentence as host to a psychotic alien, so how could anything that allowed him to continue suffering be right?

“There are stories …” Teal’c began, before a sharp look from Bra’tac quelled him and he fell silent. 

“Stories?” Daniel looked at Teal’c first, then back at Bra’tac. “If you know something that could help, you have to tell me.”

“Legends of our people,” Bra’tac said, his tone dismissive. “Nothing more.”

Steven was clearly waking up now, eyelids fluttering as he neared consciousness, and Daniel got up from his seat and went to crouch down beside where he lay.

“Be careful,” Jack said. Daniel nodded, without taking his eyes off Steven. 

Steven’s eyes opened then, momentarily disoriented, before memory took over. Then the gold glow was there, flashing brightly just long enough to give Daniel a warning to step back before Steven sat up. 

“What is this place?” he demanded, raising the hand that had formerly carried a weapon before he realized that it was no longer there. “I demand…”

“ _You_ are in no position to demand anything,” Bra’tac said. He was already pointing a weapon at Steven, though where he had produced it from Daniel couldn’t have said. Despite his apparent age, the Jaffa’s hand and voice were both steady. “And never will again, if I have my way.”

Daniel stood, interposing himself between Bra’tac and Steven. The Jaffa looked at him for a moment, assessing, then put the weapon away—Daniel had no doubt that he would have been fired upon too, if it had suited Bra’tac’s purpose. For some reason, though, it clearly was not what he currently wanted to do. 

“Legends often have a grain of truth at their core,” Daniel said. “Please. I need to know.”

\---------------------

Once they had all eaten, Bra’tac had insisted—Jack couldn’t blame him—on taking Rayner somewhere secure, though he’d had to give his word as a Jaffa to Daniel that the man would not be harmed because of the Goa’uld with which he currently shared his body. He couldn’t blame Daniel for being skeptical of the Jaffa’s intentions, either. 

Bra’tac had left them after he’d reluctantly allowed Teal’c to talk about a legend among the Jaffa, a place where a Goa’uld could be separated from its host and the host would live, but he had only the vaguest idea where this place could be found. Still, it was enough to go on, since there was no direct route home for either of them to Earth anyway. What harm could a little side trip be?

Teal’c had left shortly afterward too, saying he would go and make arrangements for somewhere to sleep, which left Jack with Daniel for the first time truly alone since they’d been prisoners together. 

Daniel was currently stretched out on a bench near the fire, staring into its heart as if he expected to read the mysteries of the universe there. 

“Do you think it’s really out there, Jack? Something that can help Steven?” Daniel asked. 

Jack walked over to where Daniel was sitting, considering the bench as opposed to the floor. Neither looked particularly soft, and at least there was a large animal skin of some kind in front of the fire, while the bench was just wood. After a moment’s deliberation, he sat on the floor, leaning back against the bench that Daniel occupied.

“Jack?” Daniel prompted, his tone more uncertain than Jack could ever recall hearing. “Maybe we shouldn’t have brought him with us.”

“We can’t get back to Earth by a direct route anyway, Daniel,” Jack said. It was a relief to be able to talk so plainly, certain somehow that Daniel would hear him out before he pushed for more information but not sure how he knew that was the case. “So we can try to find this Cimmeria. But it may not work out.”

“I know,” Daniel said, sitting up suddenly. He swung his feet round until he was sitting on the bench beside where Jack’s back rested, one hand placed with deceptive casualness on Jack’s shoulder as if he didn’t know it was there. Long fingers brushed the skin on Jack’s neck in the space between collar and hairline; Jack could feel every one like a brand despite the lightness of Daniel’s touch. “But we have to try.”

Jack heard all the things Daniel didn’t say, even as he was conscious of the warmth and weight of Daniel’s hand. He didn’t have to say that he felt an obligation toward Rayner, even though he’d clearly been a certified jackass in the past, because that was who Daniel was—someone prepared to go the extra mile even for someone it could have been easily argued didn’t deserve that sort of consideration. 

“Not arguing,” he said. “Not when there’s other things we could be doing.” 

Well, it was worth a try, wasn’t it? 

“If you think I’m going to roll around with you on that moth-eaten skin,” Daniel said. “You can think again.” 

Jack sighed, aiming for disappointed but certain that he’d missed giving that impression by a mile. 

“Now if there was a proper bed on offer,” Daniel continued, “that would be another matter.”

There was a sound from the corridor, booted feet on stone, and then the curtain that hung across the doorway parted to reveal Teal’c had returned. There was some small part of Jack’s psyche that was glad to see Daniel’s hand stayed where it was, even though the Jaffa was clearly scrutinizing the two of them. 

“Tell me you’ve got us a bed, Teal’c,” Jack said, pushing himself up by a judicious use of both the bench and a hand on Daniel’s thigh. “Please. Make my day.”

“Everything is arranged,” Teal’c replied. “I had expected you would wish to retire together.”

\---------------------

Daniel knew he probably ought to be at least a little embarrassed—he had no idea how much Teal’c had heard, or even how his culture viewed that kind of intimate relationship between two men—but he couldn’t summon up the energy. It was bad enough that Jack had settled down on the bench beside him, his hand still splayed on Daniel’s thigh as if that was the most natural thing in the world, the memory of that touch apparently enough to give Daniel himself some difficulty in concentrating on what they ought to be doing. Namely following Teal’c to wherever they were going to be spending the night. 

He wasn’t surprised to find there was only one bed, considering what Teal'c had said. In fact, Daniel decided from the well-hidden smirk he was certain he could still detect on Teal’c’s face, it would have been more surprising if the Jaffa's words had turned out to be wrong. Of course, he hadn’t advertised his relationship with Jack—whatever that relationship was, because Daniel himself wasn’t all that certain—but they hadn’t gone to any lengths to hide it either. 

Jack sank down onto the bed with a grateful sigh, closing his eyes as if that was it for him. End of story. Daniel sat beside him, pulling off his own boots, before sinking back into the bed’s embrace alongside Jack. It reminded him more than a little of the first time they’d had sex, when Jack had all but ambushed him in his own bedroom, after pleading incapacity with his knee. 

Daniel slapped Jack’s thigh with his free hand, not as hard as Jack had slapped his ass the following morning, but hard enough that he couldn’t ignore the blow.

“Boots off,” he said. Jack hadn’t moved in response to the slap, so maybe it hadn’t been hard enough? Daniel raised his hand again when Jack didn’t respond, only for Jack to quickly grab the raised hand and pull it to him. “Now you know how it felt,” Daniel continued.

“I didn’t hit you that hard,” Jack said, turning his head so he could regard Daniel without moving further than that. “Did I?” Daniel shrugged but didn’t try to pull his hand free. “Just give me a minute,” Jack continued, then closed his eyes again.

“This from the man who wanted to roll around on a rug in front of the fire,” Daniel said, as if talking to himself. Jack made a rude noise at that, but otherwise said nothing. “I could fall asleep too, without much trouble,” he said. “And then what would Jack do?”

With a swift movement, one that Daniel hadn’t expected, Jack rolled over on top of him trapping Daniel’s hand, and his own, between them. He was already half-hard, Daniel could feel that where their groins met despite the clothing they both wore, and Daniel couldn’t deny he was responding to that heat, that hardness as well. 

“I’m sure I can think of _something_ to keep you awake,” Jack said. He was leaning over Daniel, one hand pressed hard into the bed, the other still entwined with Daniel’s between their bodies. “Unless you’re not interested.” 

Jack began to lean back then, as if he intended to pull away. Daniel reached up, grabbing a handful of Jack’s shirt with his free hand and pulling him back down again. For a moment he thought of that travesty of a kiss that Osiris had shared with him, the violence inherent in it, but this was nothing like that. The thought disappeared as quickly as it had come as Daniel felt his body start to respond to this closeness. Even though he’d pulled Jack toward him with some force, Jack hadn’t resisted, his mouth insistent but not harsh on Daniel’s own, opening to his attentions without a further thought. 

“Boots,” Daniel said again, when they separated for a moment, then pulled his other hand free from Jack’s grasp and began to work on the buttons of his fly. 

He didn’t let go of Jack, even though that limited Jack’s ability to comply with Daniel’s demands, unwilling to allow even that small amount of freedom just in case. Not that Jack showed any sign of second thoughts—on the contrary, he was squirming on top of Daniel, contorting himself so that he could reach the laces on his boots enough to loosen them a little before toeing them off. 

Daniel had freed his erection, the hand that didn’t have a handful of Jack’s shirt now wrapped around it. He was hard, the movement of Jack’s body against him as he’d wriggled enough to get his boots undone sufficient to drive Daniel toward the edge, as effective as it had been ungainly. Daniel stroked his erection, one long slow caress right from the base, conscious of Jack’s eyes utterly focused on him as he did so. 

He let go of Jack’s shirt then, that hand slipping down to the waistband of Jack’s pants, his fingers making quick work of the buttons there. Jack was still moving, grinding his hips against each movement of Daniel’s hand, as he operated by touch alone. 

“How’s your knee?” Daniel asked. He wasn’t sure of the answer, wasn’t sure whether Jack would choose to be honest with him or embellish a little so he could control what they did next. 

“It’s fine, Daniel,” Jack replied. “What’s on your mind?”

Daniel brought up one foot, putting it flat on the bed, and then pushed, rolling the two of them back over so that he was on top this time. His hand was still in Jack’s pants, gripping material and pulling it down as far as his hips. Jack was helping him, lifting his hips so the fabric would slide lower, onto his thighs, his other hand covering Daniel’s own on his erection.

“How about it?” Daniel asked, knowing Jack would understand him even if he didn’t say the words. He saw Jack’s eyes widen a little, then a knowing look had replaced the surprise, a lustful look that told Daniel everything he needed to know. “Roll over, okay?”

Jack moved with an alacrity Daniel wouldn’t have really expected, his hand slipping from Daniel’s erection as he slid aside and onto his stomach, hips raised a little. Daniel didn’t pull the bundled material too far down Jack’s legs, letting it rest just above his knees, the bulk of it keeping his thighs close together. They didn’t have anything, hadn’t thought to look for anything before they’d come to the room together, so this would have to do. 

“I’m freezing my ass off here, Daniel,” Jack said, when Daniel didn’t move for a moment. 

Not for long,” Daniel replied. He fisted his cock a couple of times, reaching out at the same time with the other hand to push the material of Jack’s shirt a little further up his bowed back, before he trailed those fingers down Jack’s spine, one vertebra at a time. 

“Jesus, Daniel,” Jack said, as Daniel’s fingers detoured, his hand curving around Jack’s buttock before it came to rest on his thigh. Daniel moved, pressing himself, the heat of his erection, against Jack’s ass for a moment. “God damn it,” Jack continued. “If I’d known you’d take this long …”

What he was intending to do was lost when Daniel moved, pulling back a little to allow his erection to slide down the crack of Jack’s ass, heated flesh against cooler, then forward so it nestled between Jack’s thighs. Daniel heard Jack moan, uncertain for a moment which of them it was—the space between Jack’s thighs was a furnace, taking him back to the edge of climax once more and Daniel had to take a couple of deep breaths to stop himself from losing it right there and then. 

His hands were on Jack’s thighs, fingers splayed across each hipbone as he began to move. Jack’s breathing was already ragged, hitching again when one of Daniel’s hands sought Jack’s erection, his fingers wrapping round it as if in reassurance. Daniel didn’t move his hand, just let the movement of his thrusts slide Jack’s penis through the loose curl of his fingers, then drag back as Jack moved with his own rhythm. 

It was too good to last, of course, and sooner than he’d expected Daniel found himself spending, shuddering out his completion as he lay draped across Jack’s back, his cock still trapped between Jack’s thighs. Jack was still hard, and when Daniel had caught his breath he helped out with that problem, a couple of long strokes of callused fingers making Jack moan before he came as well.

\---------------------

“I think you’ve killed me,” Jack said, when he was able to form a thought again. 

Daniel was still slumped over his back, breathing heavily in Jack’s ear, and while part of him wanted to complain Jack also knew he didn’t really want Daniel to move. This was unexpected reassurance, a reminder that they were both alive and had escaped Osiris’ clutches relatively unscathed. He was pretty sure they were unscathed, anyway, and the less Daniel did or said to upset that idea the better.

Not that Daniel had given Jack anything to worry about on that score, being more than willing to get it on with him with the slightest encouragement, but he’d seen the way Rayner—or was it the Goa’uld, Osiris?—had looked at Daniel and it hadn’t been good. 

He wasn’t sure whether Daniel would tell him if anything had happened while they had been apart, or what his reaction would be if it had. One thing was certain, from what little Jack knew of Professor Daniel Jackson, acting all possessive wasn’t likely to get him anywhere; it also definitely wouldn’t help with ensuring the kind of encounter they’d just had happened again any time soon. 

Since his relationship had ended with Sara, Jack could count on the fingers of one hand the people he’d had sex with—most of those fingers standing for Charlie Kawalsky—and the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize the best chance at something good he’d had in years. Maybe Sara hadn’t thought he’d learned much from their marriage, but at least one thing had rubbed off, since Jack had somehow taken in the fact that sometimes it’s best not to ask. Not if you’re not completely sure you want to know the answer to your question.

Daniel shifted his weight, and then rolled over to flop back onto the bed, what sounded to Jack like a contented sigh escaping him.

Besides, Jack reminded himself, it wasn’t as if Daniel was incapable of saying whatever it was that he needed to. They were both adults, after all. If Osiris had done something and Daniel felt Jack needed to know about it, he’d tell him. Probably. Unless he thought Jack would go and do something stupid, involving Rayner suffering large amounts of pain, in which case he probably wouldn’t.

Jack lay on his stomach for a few moments, taking stock of the room Teal’c had led them to. Somehow, from the expression on Bra’tac’s face, he had a pretty good idea that Osiris wasn’t bunking down anywhere as comfortable as this, and he certainly wasn’t sharing a bed with a hot archaeologist all his own. In Jack’s mind, from what he’d heard and figured out on his own, Rayner had forfeited that particular right long before he became a host.

On the small table beside the bed were an ewer and a cloth. Jack looked at it for a moment before figuring out just why it was there. Damn, Teal’c was thorough. Climbing onto his hands and knees again, though his legs still felt a little jelly-like, Jack tipped the ewer toward the light and examined the contents with a finger—the water was even warm! As he dipped the cloth, using it to clean himself and Daniel off, Jack wondered just how Teal’c had figured out what was going on between him and Daniel, when there’d been nothing overt from either of them to give him any clue. 

He dropped the cloth onto the floor, lying back beside where Daniel still lay. Just a few minutes, then he’d undress properly. Jack wondered what kind of picture he made, half undressed, his pants still bunched around his knees. Just a few minutes, then he’d do something about that.

\---------------------

He hadn’t tagged Jack as being quite such a heavy sleeper, but when Daniel had finished removing his pants and he still hadn’t roused, then it had to be the case. Pulling a blanket over Jack, Daniel quickly removed the rest of his own clothes and then climbed in beside him. 

This was another something Steven had denied him, this quiet intimacy. Steven had always worried about being found out, even though it was unlikely that anyone who knew either of them would give a damn about what they got up to in bed, separately or together, as long as their academic performance didn’t suffer. But Steven had a particular role to play, loving the admiration of star-struck female students as much as he craved Daniel’s attention, so the fewer rumors that circulated about what he got up to the better, as far as he was concerned. 

Despite the warmth and the steadiness of Jack’s breathing, Daniel found it unexpectedly difficult to fall asleep. It always came back to Steven, didn’t it? Sometimes it felt as though his life and Steven’s were intertwined in unexpected ways—it had been Steven who was his main rival for Professor Jordan’s vacant post, Steven who had snagged the lucrative publishing deal that made him now more notable than Daniel in many ways, and finally Steven who had engineered the two of them being stranded here, halfway across the galaxy.

Okay, maybe the last one wasn’t completely Steven’s fault, but there was certainly a question mark about where his role in this whole saga had begun. 

If he’d thought the Duamutef jar held some kind of secret, something he could use for academic capital over Daniel—proving the appointments committee that they’d backed the wrong horse, maybe?—then Daniel knew Steven wouldn’t have hesitated. Once, he’d found Steven’s single-minded nature attractive, and certainly it was always flattering to be at the receiving end of it, but as he’d grown older himself Daniel had seen it in a less pleasing light. 

And that was where Steven and Jack were worlds apart, in more ways than one. Jack was honest, annoyingly so, and Daniel had no doubt that he could trust him to do what he said he would. If he’d been stuck here, wherever here was, with Steven instead then Daniel knew he’d have been worried sick by now. In contrast, Jack radiated a calm assurance, a sense of being in control of even the most out of control situations, and it was oddly comforting. 

Now, they just had to do two things: find a way to free Steven from the Goa’uld that currently possessed him and then find a way to get home. Both seemed almost impossible, even with what little Daniel knew of how the Chappa’ai functioned—clearly the device they’d used to activate it had some kind of sequential function, but the number of possible variations must be almost astronomical. Daniel was no mathematician but even he could begin to calculate the hugeness of the numbers involved. 

And that was the second part of the challenge, when the first part involved tapping into some Jaffa legend. Daniel had meant what he’d said, though, that he believed every legend out there contained some grain of truth—now he just had to find that grain. If the Goa’uld were all-powerful, if nothing of the host survived, then why would there be a legend of how they could be defeated and the host’s control of their own body restored to them? It didn’t make any sense. 

Somehow, with Jack’s assistance—along with their new friends, the Jaffa—Daniel was certain they stood as good a chance as any to prove that the legend was true. Maybe something of the host _did_ survive—more than just something, and that was what they were going to find out …

\---------------------

It was hunger that woke Jack in the end, though he was more than a little surprised to find that his pants were gone when he woke. Daniel’s arm was now lying heavily across his chest; Daniel himself was fast asleep and snoring softly, sprawled out across the bed as if trying to see how much room he could cover. He must have been the one who covered them—at least Jack _hoped_ that was the case and that they hadn’t had a late night visit from Teal’c or Bra’tac, though he had a feeling Bra’tac would have woken Jack and made him take his own pants off. 

Jack slid out from under Daniel’s arm, pausing for a moment to watch the reaction. Daniel muttered to himself, clearly out for the count, and then stilled again, the occasional snore breaking the silence of the room. 

By the time he’d pulled his pants on and retied his boots, Jack was convinced he was hungry enough to eat a horse. If the Jaffa on this planet had horses, which he didn’t know. Still, he could smell something cooking as he pushed aside the curtain over the doorway and stepped into the corridor, and it smelled good. Really good. 

He turned a corner, emerging into a large room filled with benches and rough-hewn wooden tables. At the end of one, nearest the fire, Bra’tac was sitting and he looked up when he heard Jack enter. 

“Sit,” he said, indicating the bench nearest where he sat. When Jack did as he was told, since it seemed the wisest course of action, Bra’tac pushed a platter of bread toward him. “Does your companion still sleep?”

“Like a baby,” Jack said, picking up some bread. It was roughly made but smelled wonderful and he quickly broke off a piece and ate it. “And how about Osiris?”

Bra’tac scowled.

“We were not so fortunate,” he replied. “After a while, the boasting of the Goa’uld becomes wearisome.” 

Another Jaffa entered the room, bringing more food, and Jack happily helped himself to what he’d brought. 

“In light of what you have done, Tauri,” Bra’tac began, “some might say I should have been more hospitable in my welcome to you and your companion.” 

The expression on Bra’tac’s face was hard to read, but Jack realized that the old man was embarrassed. He didn’t know much about the Jaffa, but honor was important to them and somehow Bra’tac felt he hadn’t acted honorably. Which was nonsense, considering he didn’t know who these strangers were that Teal’c had dragged along for the ride when they left Osiris’ planet.

“You welcomed us like brothers.” Jack turned, since that was Daniel’s voice, to see him standing in the doorway—he found himself grinning at the perfect timing. Daniel was just in time to rescue Jack from putting his foot in his mouth, if he’d had any idea of what to actually say. “We already owe you a debt of gratitude for your hospitality,” Daniel continued, “and appreciate your continued assistance.”

He’d come over to sit beside Jack now, as if that was something he did every day, and Jack pushed a couple of the plates in his direction. 

“Assistance?” Bra’tac echoed. “The place of which Teal’c spoke is a myth, nothing more.”

“Perhaps.” Daniel was holding a piece of bread, breaking it between long fingers that had Jack mesmerized, remembering just what those fingers had done to him only hours earlier. “But we have to try. For the sake of the host.”

“Of course,” Bra’tac said. “And now I must leave you to break your fast, if you are to accompany Teal’c on this fool’s errand.” He stood, inclined his head once to both of them in turn, and then left them to their meal.

“You should have woken me,” Daniel said, though he didn’t sound too put out. 

Jack shrugged, turning his attention back to his food. Daniel was determined to save Rayner, that much was certain—if there had ever been any chance that Jack could persuade him to give up on that particular pipedream and concentrate on finding a way back to Earth, that ship had long since sailed. 

“Do you think it’s possible, Jack?” Daniel was concentrating on his food as well now, not looking at Jack as he spoke. “Separating Osiris from Steven, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied, uncertain what answer Daniel was looking for. Was he seeking reassurance when he’d clearly already made up his mind what he thought they ought to do. “Would it make a difference if I said it’s impossible?”

That was clearly something Daniel hadn’t expected, from the way he looked up suddenly from his plate. He looked thoughtful, though, not annoyed—Jack felt himself relax, because the response could have been very different and he’d have had to live with it, once the question was asked. 

“Despite everything,” Daniel said, “I have a responsibility to Steven. I’ll admit he’s an ass, Jack, but nobody deserves what he’s going through, not if I can do anything about it.”

“He’s lucky that someone gives a damn about him,” Jack said. “All things considered, you could easily have left him on that planet to rot.”

Daniel looked down at his plate, studied the contents for a moment, and then pushed it away a little with his hand. 

“No, I couldn’t.”

\---------------------

Jack was still eating, clearly something of a bottomless pit though he blamed it on not knowing when his next meal might be, so Daniel left him to it and headed back to the room where they’d slept. He wondered where Steven had spent the night, and why he hadn’t asked Bra’tac when he’d had the chance—did his humanitarian instincts only go so far, in terms of helping Steven in the longer term rather than making sure he was treated reasonably in the meantime? 

Daniel hoped that wasn’t the case, but how could he be sure?

He took off his boots and lay down on the bed once more, studying the ceiling as he considered that. It was pockmarked, uneven, and Daniel found his eyes following the spider web traces of cracks as he let his mind wander. Part of him wanted Jack to get back here, for round two, but another part wanted nothing more than to be left alone. It had been so long since he’d had someone in his life and while there were still things that needed doing before they got home, Daniel couldn’t help wondering just what would happen if they managed to do what they intended. Two pretty big ifs, all things considered, but not impossible. 

And then what? Could Steven ever go back to his former life, knowing quite as much as he now did? Would he be permanently affected by his time as a host, to the point where normality was impossible? He might need professional help, help that only psychiatrists with the right security clearance would be safely able to give him. 

As for Jack, he’d probably go back to saving the universe on a regular basis, which was apparently what he’d been doing before the two of them had met. That seemed to suit him, though he’d thrown himself into a physical relationship with Daniel much more easily than he would have expected; Daniel had always thought the military frowned on that kind of thing. Not that he was complaining, of course. 

And what about himself? Clearly Daniel could be confident he was no security risk—even if he hadn’t once met the criteria to be offered a job with the USAF, even if Catherine Langford had never had the chance to make the offer, then who could he tell? But just going back to the university seemed like such a tame option, now he’d seen there was so much more to the universe that he’d missed out on last time around. What else was out there, waiting to be discovered?

“Hey,” Jack said, pushing aside the curtain over the doorway as he entered the room. “Teal’c came by and said if we're going, we need to go now.” He stopped just inside the door. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.” Daniel could tell which direction Jack’s brain, not to mention parts further south, was heading—he hastily swung his feet off the bed and sat up. “Spoilsport.”

“Where’s Steven?” Daniel asked, as the two of them headed into the corridor and found Teal’c waiting for them. 

“I will take you to him,” Teal’c replied. 

They followed him down the corridor, then turned into a distinctly less well-kept part of the building. Around another corner, a Jaffa stood guard over a closed door. 

“He sleeps,” the Jaffa said. 

He reached toward the door when Teal’c approached and pushed it open. Light from the corridor shone into the small room and showed Steven lying on a pallet. After a moment, he shifted a little, clearly waking up. 

“Steven?” Daniel took a couple of steps into the room, certain that someone would try to stop him, but nobody did. “It’s me. Daniel.”

Steven opened his eyes, disoriented for a moment, before the glow revealed that Osiris was fully in control. 

“Ah, Daniel,” he said. “Not as pleasant surroundings as our last encounter.” The smile on Steven’s face was feral, and Daniel could almost feel the others with him respond to it, stiffening as if they expected an attack. “Alas, the amenities are barely adequate to my needs.”

“Steven,” Daniel persisted. “We’re going to help you.”

Steven was silent for a moment before a mocking laugh shook the small room. 

“ _Steven_ cannot be helped,” Osiris said, getting up from the pallet. Daniel felt Teal’c cross to stand behind his shoulder but didn’t look round. “And you will regret this insolence. All of you will scream for a mercy that will never come.” The words were matter of fact, but laced with menace. 

“Bind him,” Teal’c said, clearly speaking to the other Jaffa, who hurriedly moved to obey the command. 

Steven didn’t even struggle, as if the actions of a Jaffa who was currently tying his hands was as much beneath his notice as an insect crawling across the floor.

\---------------------

If there was one thing he would have liked to do, Jack decided, it was to smack that arrogant expression right off Rayner’s face—he’d enjoy himself doing it, he was sure of it. Daniel would probably say Jack was sublimating his anxieties over whatever it was that Osiris had implied about what he and Daniel had got up to when Jack wasn’t there. He might be right about that, but it didn’t stop Jack itching to take a swing or three at the guy. 

Teal’c was frogmarching the guy in question down the corridor, hustling Rayner along almost too fast for Jack to keep up, considering he was also a little too aware of where Daniel was when all this was going on. And of the steadily-darkening expression on Daniel’s face, which gave clear warning that he wasn’t going to let Rayner be handled too roughly by anyone if he had any say in the matter. Which of course Daniel intended to do, for just about as long as he was drawing breath, if Jack was any judge. 

“What’s the plan, Teal’c?” Jack asked, as the four of them entered the room that held the Chappa’ai. 

There was a small pile of weapons and supplies waiting there for them, probably a little something that Bra’tac had organized, though the Jaffa was conspicuously absent. He wasn’t too keen on this little side trip, Jack knew that, and apparently didn’t intend to come and give it his blessing. 

“As I told you before, O’Neill.” 

Teal’c had forced Rayner to sit, pushing him down onto the floor about ten feet away from the supplies; he passed a weapon to Jack. It was pretty clear what that meant and Jack obediently moved to keep an eye on Rayner while Teal’c and Daniel sorted things out between them. 

“Well, maybe I wasn’t listening,” Jack said, looking at Rayner. He wondered how angry Daniel would be if he happened to shoot him for some reason. Like trying to escape, maybe? It probably wasn’t worth it. “Tell me again.”

“Jaffa legend has it that there is a world called Cimmeria,” Teal’c said. “A world where the technology exists to separate Goa’uld from host without killing the host.”

“Jaffa lies.” Rayner almost spat out the words. “You will kill your friend, Daniel, if you go along with this charade.”

Daniel ignored Osiris’ outburst, and Jack had to give him points for that. 

“But you must go alone,” Teal’c continued, as if Osiris hadn’t spoken. “That world is also death to Jaffa, since we carry a symbiote within us.”

“You do?” Daniel had stopped packing food into a bag, clearly fascinated by the idea of the Jaffa as incubators. Jack realized he hadn’t said anything about that, or why the Jaffa even did what the Goa’uld told them to, but it was a little late for that now Daniel's interest was piqued. “You hadn’t mentioned that before.”

“And there’ll be plenty of time for that conversation once your friend here is unsnaked,” Jack said, hoping to distract Daniel from that particular line of enquiry. The whole Jaffa thing was kind of icky and the less Jack had to think about it, the better he liked it. 

Jack handed the weapon back to Teal’c and walked over to where Daniel was, accepting the bag of supplies held out to him. 

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he continued, crossing back to where Rayner sat. Jack pulled him to his feet, hand tightening on Rayner’s arm when he seemed as if he was going to protest at the treatment. “Fire it up, Teal’c.”

\---------------------

The movement of the Chappa’ai mesmerized Daniel once again—he couldn’t imagine ever becoming blasé about that, no matter how many times he saw it. This all seemed oddly right, somehow, getting ready to cross into the unknown once again, except that this time they weren’t running _from_ somewhere, they had a specific destination in mind. A destination that just might help Steven’s current situation, if there was any truth in the Jaffa legend.

The fact that the Jaffa were too wary of the place to go through had to mean something, surely? If there were no basis to the myth of a device that could remove the Goa’uld, then wouldn’t some bold Jaffa—desperate to prove himself in the age-old way of young men—have dared to go anyway? 

As the shimmering blue settled, Daniel couldn’t help wondering just what it was they would find on the other side of this particular trip. Not that he’d known quite what was happening last time around, but he’d trusted Jack enough to go along with him without a second thought, besides which there was no alternative. This time, it was all about Steven and giving him a fighting chance of some kind of life, free of the Goa’uld who currently inhabited his body. 

“Ready to go?” Jack asked, hauling Steven round to face toward the Chappa’ai. Steven was dragging his feet, so much so that Jack had to almost drag him across the space between where they had been standing to watch the Chappa’ai engage and the ring itself, but it didn’t seem like Jack was too worried about this. “Time’s wasting, Daniel. Places to go, snakes to lose.”

“Just a minute.” He turned to Teal’c, who was watching them silently. “Thanks, Teal’c. For everything.”

“Good fortune, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said. “And to you, O’Neill.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, then headed into the Chappa’ai, dragging a still-reluctant Steven with him. They were gone in a matter of moments. 

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Daniel said. 

Teal’c inclined his head, as if waiting for Daniel to leave, and so Daniel turned and followed in Jack and Steven’s wake. 

On the other side, Jack was waiting for him and he was alone. 

“Where’s Steven?” Daniel asked, looking around. 

The Chappa’ai of this world stood on a stone platform, in a sandy clearing surrounded by dense forest—at one end of the platform was a stone pillar topped with a vaguely hammer shaped head, at the center of which was a polished circular stone. Jack gestured toward the stone pillar. 

“When we got here, there was a light,” he said. “Came from that thing. Rayner disappeared.”

“You weren’t affected?” Daniel asked, walking over to the pillar. He hadn’t seen a light like Jack described when he came through, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened the way Jack said. He couldn’t see why Jack would lie about something like that. “Do you think it disintegrated him?”

“I don’t think so,” Jack replied. He was looking around, clearly keeping an eye on the surrounding forest, just in case. Apparently his military habits had kicked in. “It was more like a scan.”

“That sounds reasonable. Checking for a Goa’uld, maybe?” Daniel said. He looked up at the circular stone more closely—it seemed possible it was some kind of lens; if it was, then it would certainly focus on anyone coming through the Chappa’ai. As if it was some kind of sensor. “That would also explain why we haven’t been affected by it, or even triggered it in the first place.”

“Makes sense.” Jack came over to stand beside him, watching Daniel run his fingers over the weathered inscriptions that covered that side of the pillar. “Can you make out what it says?”

Daniel shook his head. It had been a while since he'd seriously studied runes, but even so there was little to be gained from the markings here—centuries of wind and rain had obscured them sufficiently to the casual eye.

“It’s too worn,” he said. “So if it was a scan, then where did Steven go?” Daniel looked around, considering the expanse of forest that surrounded them, no indication of how far it stretched. “And how do _we_ get there?”


	6. Chapter 6

At least Daniel hadn’t jumped to the conclusion that Jack had killed Rayner and hidden his body, even if that was patently ridiculous in the time between the two of them entering the event horizon and when Daniel had emerged. Not that Jack wouldn’t have done something, if he’d thought he could get away with it—a little strategically-placed violence was no less than Rayner deserved, in his opinion.

It hadn’t worked out that way. As soon as the two of them had set foot on the planet this side of the Chappa’ai, the beam of light he’d described to Daniel had panned down Rayner's body from head to toe and then he’d disappeared. Leaving Jack to wait for Daniel and explain what had happened. At least Daniel had taken the whole thing much more calmly than Jack had expected might be the case. 

Except now they were headed into the forest, following what looked like a trail winding into the trees. It was clear someone lived here, even if the area immediately around the Chappa’ai had been deserted when they arrived; the path they traveled was marked by ruts from the wheels of carts and there were also hoof prints.

Wherever Rayner had gone, if Jack was right and the light hadn’t just zapped him out of existence, it didn’t seem to be anywhere around here. There had been no sign of a structure nearby and the stone platform underneath the Chappa’ai felt solid enough underfoot. That meant somewhere else, as far as either of them could tell.

“This could be a wild goose chase,” Daniel said, as they paused where the track split in two. Both ways looked well-traveled, so which way should they go? “What we really need is a guide.”

He couldn’t tell why Daniel chose one way over the other but Jack followed him without any protest, taking the opportunity to study the strong line of Daniel’s back and the enticing curve of his ass. Jack knew he ought to be worrying about Rayner, that Daniel probably was thinking about nothing else, but he couldn’t help admiring the scenery. And he didn’t mean the trees. For once, the universe had been kind to him, Jack decided—if he had to be saddled with a geek, it was one who was easy on the eye when it could as easily have been someone more like Rothman. 

There was noise on the trail ahead of them; without looking round to check what Jack was doing, Daniel headed quickly into the undergrowth. It didn’t sound like a battalion of Jaffa, at least, and if Teal’c was right then whoever was coming down the trail ought to be friendly—or at least unfriendly to the Goa’uld in that whole “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” way of things. Still, it didn’t pay to take chances. 

The trail curved off from where they crouched into the trees, so long moments passed before the visitor could be seen—it was a woman on a horse, harness jangling lightly in time with its movements. She was dressed in leggings and a tunic, while a long cloak covered both her shoulders and the horse’s rump, the hilt of a sword just visible where it was slung across her back. 

Jack could have sworn neither of them made a sound, but the woman halted her horse about twenty feet away from where they were hidden. She hadn’t unsheathed the sword, but her hand rested on a dagger at her belt as she scanned the surrounding forest intently. 

“Who goes?” she called, her voice ringing out with the unmistakable sound of command. 

Daniel looked at him. Jack shrugged, then they both stood, pushing out of the undergrowth as they stepped back onto the trail. The woman didn’t move, her eyes intent on the two of them. 

“I’m Daniel Jackson,” Daniel said, raising both hands, palms out, to show he was unarmed. “And this is Jack O’Neill.”

The woman studied them for a moment, her hand still resting on the hilt of her dagger, before she seemed to come to some kind of decision. With one smooth move she swung her leg over the pommel and slipped down to the ground; she was smiling now, as she headed towards them, the horse trailing behind her. 

“Hail and welcome,” she said. “I am Gairwyn. Did you come through the portal? We were told it had opened and so I hastened to greet any visitors on behalf of my husband, since he has gone a-Viking.”

There were so many things about that whole statement Jack didn’t know where to start. He’d had lectures, of course, on “first contact protocol” for when his team met new civilizations, but he’d dozed through a number of them and tended to leave all that kind of thing to Ferretti.

“We did,” Daniel said, “and there was another with us. But he vanished.”

Gairwyn nodded, her face solemn now.

“Long ago, Thor established this place as a sanctuary for his people, setting up the stone to guard against those who were unworthy to tread upon the ground of this hallowed place. The Ettins.”

“Ettins?” Daniel asked. “Giants who fought the gods?” 

After their time with Osiris, Jack was pleased to see Daniel this animated—the old enthusiasm, part of what had drawn him to Daniel in the first place, was clearly back and Jack was glad to see it. 

“Does it kill them or just take them someplace else?” Jack asked. He had a feeling if he didn’t butt in, there was a long lecture about Norse mythology in his very near future. And despite how hot he found the lecturer, there were more pressing things to think about than that right now. “The Ettin catcher.” He liked the sound of that. 

“That is a magic beyond my ken,” Gairwyn said. “But there is one who could tell you more. She came through the portal as you did, and was taken, but then hunters found her wandering in the mountains.” 

“Could you take us to her?” Daniel asked. “It’s important.”

Gairwyn studied Daniel for a moment before she replied—he didn’t flinch under her scrutiny but Jack hadn’t expected he would. If Daniel could face down a psychopathic alien that wore the body of his former lover, one woman wasn’t going to worry him all that much. 

“You are humans, like us?” she asked. 

“From Earth,” Daniel said. “Midgard. We may even be related.” Gairwyn smiled at this, and Jack could see that her eyes were the same color as Daniel’s. “Please. Help us.”

“Follow me,” Gairwyn said, then mounted her horse. “We will go to my village, and then I will take you to Kendra, who is the one of whom I spoke.” She clicked her tongue, urging the horse into a walk. “It is not far,” Gairwyn continued, looking back at them over her shoulder as they followed her down the trail, “but the path to the house of Kendra is no place for my horse.”

\---------------------

They followed Gairwyn through the forest. At least the time it would take to reach the village from the Chappa’ai gave Daniel time to think and he found himself wondering just what was going on here. If he’d thought that the revelation about the Goa’uld was bad enough, then what was this? 

“Did you know about all this?” Daniel asked, as they followed Gairwyn. “That it’s not just the Goa’uld out there?”

“We’d heard rumors,” Jack said, detouring around what remained of a fallen tree that lay partway across the path. “But who’s going to tell us anything? The Goa’uld are born liars and you’ve met the Jaffa. Even the ones who want to be free aren’t going to volunteer information to us.”

They really had no idea what was actually out there. That was the obvious conclusion to draw and Daniel considered it for a moment. Like the proverbial blind men and the elephant, Jack’s team and the other teams like them touched part of the creature and decided what that meant about the whole. 

“It makes sense,” Daniel continued, pretending he didn’t see Jack roll his eyes, “that if the Goa’uld are claiming to be gods, other alien races could do likewise, but with a more benevolent take on the whole deity issue.”

They rounded a curve in the track, where the trees began to thin and the trail dipped down into a natural valley bisected by a river. An ideal place for a village, even if it meant there was something of a journey to the Chappa’ai; it would be difficult for unwanted visitors to stumble across it by accident, Daniel decided, having lost track of how many times the trail they’d followed had branched. 

“Home sweet home,” Jack said. “Or hut sweet hut, anyway.”

By the time the two of them reached the center of the village, a small group of people had already clustered round Gairwyn as she dismounted from her horse. Even from the edge of the houses Daniel could hear the questions she was being asked, as well as how she hadn’t answered most of them. 

“You are welcome here,” Gairwyn said, turning to the two of them. All the villagers turned too, eyes intent on their visitors, and for a moment Daniel felt uncomfortably like he was under a microscope. “It is time for the midday meal, will you eat with us?”

She gestured toward the largest of the huts, outside which a table stood. Daniel looked at it, then back at Gairwyn’s expectant face, which bore an expression that was repeated on the faces of the other villagers, old and young alike. Daniel knew that hospitality was important to them, as it was to many cultures—he couldn’t figure out a way to turn them down that wouldn’t potentially jeopardize the assistance they had offered to give. 

“What would it hurt?” Jack muttered, from right beside him. Daniel nodded—he knew Jack understood his worries for Steven, even if he didn’t share them, and they needed to eat. 

“Your hospitality is most welcome to us,” Daniel said, pleased by the smile that response elicited from a dozen or more faces. “Though we cannot stay long.”

“I understand,” Gairwyn said, “but sit and we shall talk about your journey through the portal, and the place from which Thor has sent you.”

\---------------------

It wasn’t the kind of beer he was used to, but it wasn’t a bad brew all the same, Jack decided; he leant back against the hut wall and listened to Daniel talk. As he’d expected, Daniel had already managed to find himself a fan club here in Gairwyn’s village, and he was currently holding them all spellbound with an account of their dealings with Osiris. Or a sanitized version of them, at least, since Daniel didn’t mention either the details of the deal he’d made with Osiris for Jack’s life, or exactly what Osiris had done to him while Jack and Teal’c had been waiting for him to come to their rescue. 

Still, there were children around, a couple of them with eyes as big as saucers as they listened to the stranger talk about an Ettin. Jack smiled, remembering Charlie’s response to the stories he’d once told him, glad he could now remember his son and the good times they’d shared, without the depression remembering Charlie had once caused. 

“And now,” Daniel said, “we have come to your world. Because the Ettin who we fought came here with us, to face Thor’s judgment.”

That was one way of putting it; Jack drained the mug of beer as he considered that. Thor’s judgment might not turn out quite the way Daniel hoped; Jack wasn’t sure Daniel was ready for that possibility—the moment Gairwyn had mentioned that another host had come here and been freed from their Goa’uld, Jack was certain Daniel had decided that was what would happen for Rayner. And if it didn’t, Jack knew he was the only one who was going to be around to pick up the pieces. 

“And on that note,” Jack said, getting up from his seat. “We really should go see this Kendra.”

Gairwyn rose from her chair too. As the head of the village, Daniel had explained, she did not sit with her guests, but occupied an ornately-carved wooden chair whose back was decorated with curling serpents. Jack didn’t envy her that, since it looked like hell on the vertebrae. 

“You are welcome to return here,” she said, “once your quest is finished.” 

“Thank you,” Daniel said, then he stood as well, the movement scattering the group of children who’d been listening to him. 

They followed Gairwyn, heading away from the direction of the Chappa’ai—Jack could see they were heading north, toward the low range of mountains that spread across the horizon.

\---------------------

Apparently Kendra lived on the outskirts of the village; close enough to be sociable but far enough away to ensure privacy. As they approached the two small structures that lay in the shade of an overhanging cliff, Daniel wondered whether Gairwyn was right about this woman—had she really once been a host?

He knew Jack could tell he was anxious, and he was. Hours had passed since they’d come through the Chappa’ai, hours in which almost anything could have happened to Steven. Assuming that the light Jack described had simply transported him somewhere else rather than disintegrating him on the spot. Still, Daniel had to know. Steven was a pain in the ass, but he was someone Daniel had once called a friend, despite his flaws, and he couldn’t help empathizing with his current plight. 

“Hail,” Gairwyn called out, as she crossed the space between where he and Jack stood to greet a woman who had emerged from the larger of the two buildings. She was slim, her dark skin and mass of darker curls marking her as distinctly different from the villagers; their Viking ancestry was obvious for anyone to see. “Kendra, I have brought travelers from Midgard who seek the place to which the light of the portal leads.”

“Hail and welcome,” Kendra said, stepping forward to greet them herself. 

“Hi, I’m Jack,” Jack said, with a roguish smile that didn’t seem to put Kendra at ease like he’d obviously thought it would. She looked at him, her eyes assessing—if Daniel wasn’t mistaken, it was all she could do not to bolt for cover, or at least put Gairwyn between herself and the two of them. 

“Is it true?” Daniel asked, hoping to draw her attention away from Jack before she refused to help them. “That you were a host?”

Kendra’s face darkened and she stiffened. 

“I was once the slave of such a beast, for many years,” she said, quietly. “Until I came to this place, to the labyrinth, and the might of Thor was my salvation.”

“Labyrinth?” Daniel asked. “Where exactly does the stone send people? Gairwyn said you were found in the mountains.”

Kendra nodded; she was looking at Jack once more, even as she spoke, her eyes fixed on him warily.

“Not far. I can take you there, to the entrance of the Hall of Mjolnir.”

“Thor’s hammer,” Daniel said, in an aside to Jack. He could see Jack was equally puzzled by Kendra’s reaction to him—it wasn’t as if he’d even spoken to her, let alone made any hostile moves. 

“The one you seek has a beast inside him?” 

Daniel looked at Gairwyn, who was watching Kendra too, her expression showing she was also puzzled by Kendra’s reaction to Jack. 

“He does,” Daniel said. He took a step forward, uncertain of the response she’d make to that overture, his hand taking hold of her forearm. “But if you survived, then there’s a chance he will as well.”

“Perhaps,” Kendra said, turning to Daniel at last. He could feel the tension in her body, the strength in that slim arm through the material of her sleeve. “It is certain that only the host can leave the Hall of Mjolnir alive.”

\---------------------

“What did I do?” Jack asked, as the two of them followed Kendra. She scrambled ahead of them, moving from rock to rock up the side of the cliff that backed her home. “I only spoke to her once and she’s looking at me like I grew an extra head.”

That wasn’t the response he was used to from women, even women on other worlds. He had a reputation to keep up, even if he didn’t want Daniel to know that, though the way they often had to beat a hasty retreat on off world missions meant Jack didn’t exactly have a girl on every planet. 

“I don’t know, Jack.” Daniel shrugged. “Maybe you remind her of someone.”

Jack looked at Kendra again. She might be thin, but she was certainly agile and strong, if her passage over the boulders ahead of them was anything to go by. Neither he or Daniel were weaklings, but they were hard-pressed to keep up with the pace Kendra was setting, given the terrain. 

“I don’t think I want to know, from the looks she was giving me.” Jack shifted the bag he was carrying, thoughtful. “You think she really knows where to take us?”

Daniel paused, catching his breath for a moment. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, spreading a smear of dirt that had already been present, before he looked in the direction Kendra was headed.

“If she does, we’d better keep up with her,” he said. 

Jack followed Daniel’s gaze, just in time to see Kendra disappear out of sight.

“Son of a bitch,” he said.

A few minutes later they reached the place where they’d last seen Kendra, and found on the other side of the rise there was a long slope that led to a cave. Kendra was sitting on a nearby rock, waiting, and she got to her feet when she saw them. 

“Here.” She pointed up, to the decoration carved in the stone above the entrance. 

“Mjolnir,” Daniel said. “Just like the stone at the Chappa’ai.” 

Kendra watched them approach, her eyes still wary. 

“Listen, lady,” Jack said. “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but I never did anything to you.”

“You are of the Tauri,” Kendra said, her posture still stiff, unbending. “Your people were visitors to my planet.”

Jack was examining the cave entrance, wondering how far back it led and whether the bag of tricks Teal’c had given them included some kind of flashlight, since the darkness inside it was impenetrable. At Kendra’s quiet words, he turned, certain that his face showed the surprise he felt. 

“We were?” Jack asked. He had a bad feeling about this. Kendra nodded. Behind her, Daniel stood, as if transfixed. Somehow all of this intergalactic travel was becoming even more real to him, Jack realized; now he was encountering not just aliens and the Jaffa but also other humans who came from planets Jack had already been to. “I don’t remember.”

“There is no reason why you should,” Kendra said, looking down. Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers knotting anxiously. “Our planet was overrun by the Goa’uld, not long after your people came. The Jaffa of the beast Marduk killed many of my people and enslaved more—we hoped for assistance from the Tauri to resist them, but there was none.”

“We’ve been to so many planets …” Jack began. He knew it was weak, even as he spoke the words. Kendra held up a hand and he stopped, glad of the excuse. 

“This planet is my home now,” Kendra said. “Though I came through many trials to get to this place. You should know, Tauri, before you enter the labyrinth, something inside it is alive.”

\---------------------

Kendra’s words sent a sliver of ice down Daniel’s spine. She hadn’t mentioned much about the labyrinth before now and he hadn’t asked—in truth, he hadn’t really wanted to know anything about what Steven might be going through. It was bad enough his own imagination had supplied all sorts of details, envisaging Steven trapped in an endless series of stone corridors deep underground, searching fruitlessly for a way out.

“Alive?” he heard himself say. Jack had stiffened at the words too, pulling out the weapon Teal’c had given him as if he expected that “something” to emerge from the cave at any moment. “Please, Kendra, it's important you tell us what you know.”

Daniel knew it wasn’t the most considerate of requests, but he had to know what they were going to face—what Steven was already facing—when they went inside. 

“I remember little of my time in the labyrinth,” Kendra said. “The light transported me to a place where an image of Thor appeared, sentencing my beast to death. She laughed, until she realized the message the image repeated over and over was true; there was no way out but one.” Her hands were still clasped together, their knuckles now white with the strength of her grip. “Only the host can leave that place alive, yet something in there still lives. Something that has been in the labyrinth for many years.”

Her words ground to a halt, and Daniel could see there was nothing more Kendra could, or would, tell them. They’d have to improvise, trusting that Steven was still alive, if something else was still alive in there with him. 

“I know that was difficult,” Daniel said. “Thank you.” He turned to Jack, wordlessly accepting the weapon Jack held out to him, the alien device now feeling almost familiar in his hand. “We have to go, Jack. Now.” 

Jack nodded, then led the way into the cave entrance, leaving Kendra outside in the sunlight. Once inside, they cast long shadows on the walls of the cave, before the entrance curved and the light that had been behind them disappeared. Ahead, in what little illumination there was, they could see a wall, marked with a dozen or more handprints; a thick darker line marked where the wall should separate, to form an opening. 

“What now?” Jack asked, running his hand over the makeshift doorway. Daniel examined the wall, feeling the runes that were carved along its edge, between the handprint-shaped recesses. There were more a little further along and he moved to them, translating the message there as he followed the markings with his fingertips. “Daniel?”

“Just a minute,” he said, the words more terse than he’d intended. Daniel glanced round, but Jack wasn’t looking at him. He was leaning his shoulder against the door itself, pushing to see if brute force would work. It didn’t. “Here we go.”

Daniel’s hands found the right combination of marks, at last, and he felt the mechanism shift under his palms; the darker crack became wider for a moment and then the door swung open. It hinged in the middle, revolving on an invisible axis, and more light now came from inside the cave than outside. 

“Nice work,” Jack said, then edged through the gap into the labyrinth itself before Daniel could respond to the compliment. 

“Nothing to it,” Daniel said, as he followed Jack through the doorway. “It was just a matter of figuring out which runes related to which mark …” 

Jack stopped in front of him, suddenly. Daniel took a step to his side, weapon raised in case there was a problem, and then he saw why. Ahead, almost the entire width of the cave, was a hammer-shaped entrance, whose arched stone blocks formed something oddly reminiscent of the stone by the Chappa’ai. But much larger.

“Thor’s hammer?” Jack asked, glancing across at him with a grin. “What’s so special about it?” Jack walked forward to take a closer look, then reached out with one finger into the space between the two pillars that formed the “handle” of the hammer—nothing happened. “Just checking.”

“If there's anything, I expect it'll be meant to keep things in, not keep them out,” Daniel said, though he couldn’t really blame Jack for being cautious after their recent encounters with Goa’uld force fields.

Jack shrugged, then walked forward through the space left by the bottom of the hammer, his weapon still raised. From the room at the other side of the archway, there were three corridors branching off, all of which looked exactly the same. 

“Well, I guess if the lady says ‘labyrinth’ then she knows what she’s talking about,” Jack said. He dropped the bag he was carrying, then squatted beside it and began to root around in its contents.

“We should have asked Gairwyn,” Daniel said. “Or Kendra.”

Jack looked up, puzzled. “Asked them what, Daniel?”

Daniel knew what was in his own bag and had a pretty good idea what was in Jack’s as well. Nothing helpful for this kind of situation, as far as he knew. 

“For string, or something,” he explained. “So we could make a trail to mark our way back here, if the labyrinth is as complex as Kendra says.”

“Want to know my plan?” Jack said, looking up at him from where he squatted. “It involves sitting right here and waiting for Osiris to show.”

\---------------------

It wasn’t often Daniel was lost for words—it hadn’t taken particularly long for Jack to figure that out—but this was one of those times. If this was some kind of labyrinth, then the last thing they needed to do was roam around it in the hope that they’d run across Rayner. They could spend days that way and that was time Jack didn’t intend to waste when it came to tracking down someone he didn’t really give a damn about in the first place. Even if Daniel did, for some reason Jack couldn’t quite figure out, all things considered.

Daniel opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was planning to say was drowned out by another noise, an echoing roar that sounded like nothing Jack had ever heard before. 

“What the hell was that?” Daniel asked, though clearly that wasn’t what he had originally been going to say. 

“Bring your weapon, Daniel, but leave everything else here.” Jack got up from where he’d crouched, picked up his bag and stowed it in a corner by the exit, then watched Daniel do the same. 

At least, here in the labyrinth, there was sufficient light to see what was going on. He wasn’t sure which of the doorways the sound had come from, so Jack took a moment to listen intently at each; Daniel was at his side, weapon in hand, a worried look on his face.

“Anything?” Daniel asked, when a couple of minutes had passed with no repeat of the sound. “We could split up…” He didn’t sound keen on the idea, though; clearly Daniel was no fan of horror movies, or he wouldn’t even be suggesting anything of the sort. “I know, ‘you go down the dark corridor on your own and I’ll stay here, alone, in the dark.’ ” Daniel grinned, despite the situation and Jack felt his heart lift a little. 

“Nope.” Jack chose one of the passages, at random. “We stick together, Daniel. No question.”

Jack concentrated on keeping a steady pace that both of them could easily maintain for hours, every sense alert to the prospect of danger. What wouldn’t he give for an assault rifle right now, instead of one of these Goa’uld gizmos? At least Daniel hadn’t argued with him—if they’d both been heavily armed it might have been another matter, but with just zats the idea of going their separate ways was the next best thing to suicide. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could see Daniel was paying almost as much interest to their surroundings as he was to the possibility of danger. He guessed it was understandable—it wasn’t every day you discovered that, not only was there life on other planets, but you were going to get the chance to go visiting. If Jack had nothing else to think about, like something big and noisy that might like eating people, he figured he’d probably be admiring the scenery as well. 

It all looked the same, though, Jack decided: endless gray stone corridors, punctuated occasionally by smoother places where the flatness of the wall was broken by carvings. Runes, like the ones he’d seen on the stone back at the Chappa’ai, or sinuous animals covered the walls, catching Daniel’s attention. 

The sound came again, further away, which seemed to indicate Jack had picked the wrong corridor. Or the right one, maybe, if avoiding whatever-it-was meant their chances of both finding Rayner and getting the hell out of Dodge were going to stay good. 

The corridor curved again, and Jack noticed that the walls ahead were shimmering; they turned the corner and found themselves on a path that trailed alongside a pool, one side of the pool sloping up across a gravel bank. And scattered across the gravel were bones. Daniel saw them and didn’t hesitate, crossed straight to where they lay, squatted and picked up the first that came to hand—it was a femur, and it looked human. 

“Are those …?” Jack didn’t know how to make the question sound less repulsive, but he was sure Daniel would know what he meant. 

“Bite marks?” Daniel replied, his attention still on the bone as he turned it in his hand, examining the marks on it. “I’m no expert on bones, but I’d say they were. From something big.” He looked at the bones, which lay strewn across the gravel, some lying partly in the water. “And probably hungry.”

Maybe they _had_ picked the right corridor after all.

\---------------------

The bones had been picked clean, and even the newest of them looked like it had been lying around for a while. At least that meant Steven might still be alive, though a treacherous voice in Daniel’s mind told him it might mean he was already dead somewhere else, just not here. 

“I don’t particularly want to meet whatever did that, Jack,” Daniel said, getting up from where he had been squatting. He dropped the bone and wiped his hand on his trouser leg, looking down at the detritus that lay around him. “But we need to find Steven.”

He didn’t expect Jack to argue, even though they were probably in as much danger as Steven was, other than the added problem of being a host. They headed out of the cavern as quickly as they could, deeper into the labyrinth since the sound of roaring still came from nearer the exit. 

“You know …” Jack began, when they paused at an intersection. His face was grim, and Daniel wondered for a moment what expression Jack saw on his face; they were probably a mirror of one another. “I don’t want to say it, Daniel.”

“He might already be dead.” Jack’s expression didn’t change, but then Daniel hadn’t expected it would. He already had a clear idea of Jack’s opinion on the subject of Steven Rayner. “And I brought him here, Jack.”

After all, it _had_ been Daniel who had made that decision, hadn’t it? It hadn’t taken much for Daniel to believe Steven would want to be rescued—he’d only had to imagine their roles reversed and how much he’d hate to be a host—but Daniel had never considered the possibility that the cure might be worse than the disease. 

“If he’s alive,” Jack said, “we’ll find him.” He looked down each of the passages in turn. “Any preference?”

“Well, if we keep heading left,” Daniel said, “it should be easier to find our way back.” Another roar from behind them; this one sounded closer. “Or we could just follow the roaring sound, that’d work.”

“Left it is,” Jack said, leading the way into the corridor Daniel had chosen.

This corridor was long and straight, occasionally widening into small rooms whose walls were covered in intricate carvings, much more detailed and of finer workmanship than the cruder ones they’d seen near the exit. It was as if the creator had lost patience with his creation, or a number of hands had worked together to build this place.

Daniel paused for a moment, looking at one of the carvings. It was a detailed representation of the world-tree, Yggdrasil, with the serpent Nithog curled at the base, sharp teeth tearing at the tree’s roots. Had those gods, worshipped across a significant chunk of northern Europe for centuries, really been aliens? 

Ahead, Jack had disappeared around the next corner and Daniel suddenly realized he was alone. It was only when he heard a voice from ahead, though, that he hurried to join Jack and see what he had found. 

It was another chamber, its only exit the entrance from which they had come, at the end of which stood a large, bearded man wearing a fearsome-looking helmet. 

“I am Thor,” the man said, “supreme commander of the Asgard fleet.”

“Asgard?” Daniel asked, crossing to where Jack was. 

As if he didn’t hear the interruption, the man continued to speak, his eyes fixed at a point above both their heads. One hand carried a hammer, as Daniel had expected it would. 

“The high council of Asgard has designated Cimmeria a safe world for developing sentient species by unanimous decree 40.73.29,” the man continued, as if he didn’t hear the interruption. “The Goa’uld System Lords were so informed. You were warned not to come here, under pain of death.”

“This must be the message Kendra told us about,” Daniel said. 

Jack cocked his head to one side; he was listening to the message, that much was clear, but it looked like he was also considering something else. He took a step forward, then another when the man didn’t react and continued speaking as if nothing had changed. 

“This is your prison. Your technology will not function here.”

Daniel looked down at the weapon in his hand. He had a bad feeling about this. 

Jack moved, suddenly, his hand whipping out to strike the man; he almost overbalanced when his hand moved right through the speaker’s body, leaving a trail of distortion behind. 

“It’s not real,” he said, turning to Daniel. 

“Jack, the weapons,” Daniel said. He raised his arm, pointing the Goa’uld weapon at the wall; as it had done when he saw it used before, the head rose, but nothing else happened. “They don’t work!” 

Daniel hoped that wasn’t a note of panic in his voice, but suddenly this whole situation, deep under a mountain in a labyrinth with something large and probably hungry, didn’t feel quite as good an idea as it had before, Steven or no Steven.

\---------------------

Damn it, he should have known this had been too easy. Behind Jack, the message repeated itself again, the man who called himself Thor talking about the Goa’uld and their “crimes against the living host” but all Jack could think about was whatever it was that made that god awful noise they’d heard. And the fact that they apparently were now unarmed, thanks to Thor and his Goa’uld trapping ways. 

Jack tried his own weapon anyway, then resisted the urge to throw it at the nearest wall when it didn’t work. 

“That’s not good,” Daniel said. “We should get out of here.”

“You said it.” Jack shoved the weapon into the waistband of his pants. It might not work in here, but they could use it again when they got outside—thinking positive thoughts here—and he wasn’t about to throw away something he might need later on. “Let’s go.”

They left the room at a run, Thor’s answering machine message still on repeat behind them; another advantage of bringing Daniel along for this joyride, as opposed to A.N.Other random geek, Jack decided, was at least he was sure Daniel could keep up. That would have been a problem too far at this point in time, with something loud and potentially nasty lurking in here with them. And Rayner, of course, assuming he hadn’t been loud-and-nasty’s appetizer. 

Of course, while running was a good idea when it came to getting back to the exit, it also had the effect of announcing their location to anyone, or anything, that was looking for them. That couldn’t be helped, Jack decided, as they ran along the path beside the pool, both of them steadfastly ignoring the bones this time around. A right turn and they were heading back toward the exit for certain. 

Another roar, much closer this time. 

“In here!” a voice said, as Rayner emerged from one of the doorways, beckoning to them. Jack stopped in his tracks, pulled the weapon from his waistband and aimed it at Rayner, who raised his hands in response. So, he’d either not found the message from Thor or hadn’t stuck around to hear all of it. “No time for that,” Rayner continued, his voice sounding normal instead of the echoing tone that meant Goa’uld.

“Steven,” Daniel said, as the two of them followed Rayner into the small passageway. “Thank god you’re okay.”

“Okay?” Rayner laughed, the tone so contemptuous that Jack wasn’t certain if it was the host or the Goa’uld who was in control. “What makes you think I’m _okay_ , Daniel?” Rayner half-turned, pulling up his shirt and revealing three livid scratch marks, all of which still slowly oozed blood. 

“What did that?” Jack asked. 

He didn’t care much whether Rayner was injured or not—hell, for all the trouble he’d put both of them through, and particularly how big a jerk he’d been where Daniel was concerned, Jack would be happy to see Rayner become the blue plate special—but he had to know, if any of them were to get out of there in one piece. 

“I don’t know what it was,” Rayner said. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, either.” He turned to Daniel. “But I do know one thing, Daniel: this is all your fault.”

Jack was moving almost before the words were out of Rayner’s mouth, his punch laying Steven out flat before he could think about how that action might be received by Daniel. 

“Thanks so much, Jack,” Daniel said, coolly. “But Steven’s right, this _is_ my fault.” He reached out a hand to Rayner, pulling him to his feet, then turned back to Jack. Over Daniel’s shoulder, Jack could see Rayner smirking, even as he gingerly touched what promised to be a beautiful black eye. “And now we need to all get out of here.” 

Daniel crossed to the other end of the passageway, looking cautiously out. Rayner moved to stand behind him, still smirking a little, though that expression disappeared quickly enough when Jack prodded him in the side with his weapon. The wince told Jack his aim was true—right on the claw marks. 

“Come on,” Daniel said, then slipped into the corridor, Rayner right behind him.

\---------------------

It was an odd sensation, heading down these corridors again with Steven as well as Jack. All Daniel could think about was getting out, that somehow Steven would be separated from the Goa’uld that currently inhabited him—or maybe it had happened already? He’d seen no sign of Osiris since they’d encountered one another, no glowing eyes or incipient megalomania. 

“What happened, Steven?” Daniel asked, when they paused to listen for any sound of pursuit. “Jack brought you through the Chappa’ai and then what?”

Steven didn’t answer for a moment, but just stood there; one hand was pressed against his side, blood seeping through the material of his shirt between his splayed fingers. 

“There was a light,” he said, finally. “From the stone, it traveled the length of my body and then I was here. When I woke up, I found myself in a labyrinth and then a … thing came after me.” Steven removed his hand from his side and looked at it thoughtfully, as if the blood on his fingers was a surprise. “I thought I was going to die, Daniel.”

The expression on Steven’s face was pitiful; Daniel had never seen it before, since he’d only been used to the cocksure reminders he was dealing with Steven Rayner, god’s gift to humanity. This was all new, assuming that it wasn’t a calculated attempt on Osiris’ part to manipulate him, as Osiris would know Daniel had never seen Steven this vulnerable. 

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Jack said, butting in. His expression spoke volumes about how much blood he’d like to see Steven lose sometime soon.

“You’re still a host,” Daniel said. He’d meant it as a question, since he wasn’t sure Osiris was still there, but somehow it didn’t come out that way. “This place is death to the Goa’uld.”

Steven swayed a little, rocked on his feet and then stumbled forward; instinctively, Daniel caught him, only realizing it was a trick when Steven’s hand pulled the weapon from where he’d shoved it in his jacket pocket. With one swift movement, Steven pulled Daniel round to use as a shield between him and Jack, the weapon he’d stolen placed against Daniel’s temple. 

“Then we will die together, you and I,” Osiris said, his tone echoing even more in these surroundings. 

Daniel would have laughed if it hadn’t all been so pitiful. 

“Let go of me, Steven,” he said, not even bothering to struggle. “Before Jack takes this opportunity to beat the crap out of you.”

\---------------------

“They don’t work,” Jack said, shoving his weapon back into his waistband again and taking a step closer to where Rayner stood with his back against the wall, Daniel in front of him. 

The weapon Rayner was holding opened up, but then nothing else happened. Had he really been willing to shoot Daniel in the head from this range? That argued how little control Rayner had over the Goa’uld who inhabited his body. Rayner only came out to play when Osiris allowed it, nothing more. 

“You’d better let me go, Steven,” Daniel said. He held up his hand for the weapon, and after a moment, Rayner gave it back to him. “Thank you.” Daniel stepped away from Rayner, who slumped against the wall—this time it looked as though it was real, but Daniel ignored him.

“What now?” Daniel asked, as he pushed the weapon back into the pocket of his jacket. “Do you think the hammer does what Kendra says?”

“Only one way to find out,” Jack said. He crossed over to where Rayner was leaning against the stone of the corridor walls. “Just one way out of here.” A roar, closer still, punctuated Jack’s words. “Come with us, or stay and be lunch. I don’t much care which.”

Rayner pushed himself off the wall and stood, swaying, in the middle of the corridor. His eyes were still on Daniel, an expression in them that Jack didn’t like because he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was—admiration, annoyance, attraction? 

“This way,” Jack said, once he was certain Rayner wasn’t going to fall over for real; he led the way back towards the exit, and Thor’s hammer. Rayner followed him, moving sluggishly still, with Daniel bringing up the rear.

“I’ll get the bags,” Daniel said, crossing to where they’d left their belongings when they first entered the labyrinth. “I hope Kendra hasn’t waited for us. It must be almost night by now.”

“After you,” Jack said, letting Rayner pass him as he headed for the exit. 

Even though he’d seen what happened at the Chappa’ai, Jack still wasn’t prepared for the effects of the hammer. Rayner had only just entered the space that stood for its shaft, midway between this room and the exit, when there was a tremendous buzzing sound and everything around him arced red. Rayner’s back arched, his scream echoing around the room as his arms flailed in desperate hope of purchase; he obviously thought that if he could get hold of the edges of the stone slabs that made up the hammer, he could pull himself from the force field that surrounded him. 

“Steven!” Daniel yelled, launching himself forward before Jack could stop him. He grabbed hold of Rayner’s shirt, pulling him back into the hall, and Rayner slumped boneless to the ground on top of him.

\---------------------

As he struggled out from under Steven’s unconscious weight, Daniel wasn’t certain which had been worse—the despairing scream that had ripped from Steven or the way his body had twisted in the force field. Daniel had a feeling he’d be reliving both in his dreams for the foreseeable future if they didn’t get out of here soon. Jack had reached him by now, and was helping to support Steven’s unconscious body, lowering him much more gently to the ground than Daniel would have given him credit for. Jack looked shaken too, his normal air of assurance wearing thin at the edges. 

“Think it worked?” Jack asked, as he squatted beside Steven, feeling for his pulse. “His heart is racing. No surprises there.”

Daniel sank to the floor beside the two of them, feeling like he’d run a marathon. It was too much to cope with and he couldn’t help wondering how Kendra—who looked thin enough for a strong wind to blow her away—had survived the force field when it had done that to Steven. 

“What have I done, Jack?” Daniel asked, looking across to where Jack still crouched beside Steven’s body. “Wasn’t it bad enough Steven is a host, but then I made him suffer like this?”

“First of all,” Jack said, his expression grim, “none of this is your fault. And secondly, if it wasn’t for us coming here, d’you think he’d have any chance of being free of Osiris?” Jack stood and put his hand flat on the wall of the hammer-shaped exit. “You heard Thor’s message. There’s no other way.”

Jack’s words were strong enough in their own right, but it was the tone in which they were spoken that gave Daniel new resolve. Jack was right, of course, there was no choice. Thor’s message talked about “crimes against the living host”; anything short of freeing Steven from Osiris’ control wasn’t good enough. 

Steven was stirring now, and Daniel helped him sit up. His eyes flashed gold for a moment, as Osiris regained control. 

“It’s no use, Daniel,” Steven said. “If you force me to do that again, you’ll kill me.”

How could he ever be sure whether it was Steven or Osiris talking? This could be either of them; Steven had been in enormous pain, Daniel was certain of that, but _Osiris_ had everything to live for. No chance of playing evil overlord in the future if he couldn’t get out of here, yet the force field would probably kill him.

“I shouldn’t have stopped you,” Daniel said, as he steadied Steven. “If I hadn’t intervened, Osiris would be dead now and you would be free.”

“Lies!” Steven snapped, his eyes glowing brightly. “Nothing of the host survives—kill me and all that remains of your friend dies too. And his death will be on your conscience.”

“That sounds more like the snake I’ve come to know and loathe,” Jack said, coming over to where they both sat. “Leave him to it,” he continued, pulling Daniel to his feet. “He can’t leave here, but we can walk out any time we like.”

“Humans.”

The new voice made both of them turn in its direction, toward the door where the creature stood. 

“What the hell is that?” Jack asked, even as Daniel thought it.

Daniel had never seen anything like it and oddly he was reassured by the fact that Jack, who’d visited more worlds than he had, hadn’t either. The creature was immensely tall, broad shoulders straining a roughly-made tunic that barely covered a torso which was a mass of ridged gray flesh. Long arms ended with what had to be razor-sharp claws—the claws that had almost eviscerated Steven—and Daniel could see Steven had been lucky to get away relatively unharmed. The creature’s eyes were small, set well back in a similarly-ridged head that was punctuated with what looked like tiny horns; the eyes glowed gold for a moment, or was that a trick of the light?

“Humans, in this place.” The voice was deep and guttural, with little of the echo Daniel had come to associate with the Goa’uld from his encounters with Osiris, but the attitude was much the same regardless. “The place of your death.”

“Our weapons don’t work, Daniel,” Jack said urgently from beside him as the two of them watched the creature stalk across the space that separated them. “We have to go!”

“I’m not leaving Steven,” Daniel said, without taking his eyes off the creature; here was yet another element for his future nightmares, assuming he ever got out of here. “I got him into this, Jack, and I won’t leave him behind.”

Daniel crossed to where Steven was still sitting. Steven was watching the creature too, his expression giving all the confirmation Daniel needed that they’d met before. Last time, somehow, Steven had got away but his face told Daniel he didn’t expect to escape this encounter as easily, or indeed at all. 

“Get up,” Daniel said, as he pulled Steven to his feet. “We have to go.”

“I can’t.” 

Steven couldn’t take his eyes off the creature, his head turning when Daniel manhandled him around so he wasn’t facing it. Daniel could still see it too, over Steven’s shoulder, moving stealthily as if it expected an attack even though it must know that it could easily overpower any of them. And if the gnawed bones they’d found were anything to go by, it must also be aware of the fact that none of their weapons would work in this place, so why didn’t it attack?

“I am Unas,” the creature said, as it took another cautious step toward them. “The first one.”

“You lie.” That was Osiris, back in control of Steven’s body once more, pulling him upright and away from Daniel’s grasp even as Jack tried to maneuver the two of them back toward the archway. “The first one is a legend told to frighten Jaffa children, nothing more.”

“No legend,” the Unas replied, with a deep laugh. “Can a legend tear flesh from bone?” It gestured with one long, clawed hand toward Steven’s side. “Your blood; no legend did that.”

“I am Osiris,” Steven continued, “Lord of the Sky.”

The words seemed to strike some kind of chord in the Unas, as it stopped in its tracks, tipping its heavy head to one side as if considering, or remembering. 

“I was lord once,” it said. “Millions did my bidding.”

Daniel wondered how long ago that had been. If even a Goa’uld considered this “first one” to be the stuff of legends, and the Jaffa had been serving the Goa’uld for thousands of years, how long had the Unas been here, imprisoned in this labyrinth and relying on passing Goa’uld for food?

“Get out,” Steven said, suddenly, his voice normal again. He turned to Daniel, the old familiar arrogance missing from his expression—he looked young, as young as he’d been when Daniel had first met him, with all the promise of the rest of their lives before them. “Get out of here, Daniel.”

“You heard the man,” Jack said. He’d grabbed hold of Daniel’s jacket and was pulling him back, stumbling, toward the archway before Daniel could speak; before the Unas could move.

When the Unas moved, it was in a sudden rush, the heavy body powered by massive legs toward where Steven stood alone now, between the “first one” and the two humans. Daniel stumbled, tripping over his own feet as he tried to run and also to watch what was happening to Steven, needing to know, no matter what. 

The impact of the Unas’ body hitting Steven drove him back heavily. For a moment, until Daniel saw them struggling together, he thought Steven had been knocked out again; the impact must have been like being hit by a truck. The two of them—him and Jack—were through the archway in a heap, falling headlong to the floor just the other side. 

Jack pulled his weapon out; when he checked it, a familiar arc of electricity ran along its edge—Thor’s message had been right, none of the Goa’uld weapons would work inside the labyrinth, but outside was another matter.

\---------------------

By the time the Unas realized what Rayner had planned it was too late; he might have been stronger than the man he had tackled but their momentum had carried the two of them perilously close to the archway. Rayner only had to let himself be pushed, allowing that momentum to move the two of them a little further, before the force field engaged once more, enveloping both of them. 

Rayner screamed, a sound Jack had heard before and didn’t like any more this time around. He might loathe the guy but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted him to suffer. Or at least not arbitrarily; not when Jack was on hand to give the guy a beating he’d remember for a while. This was a little too much like torture for Jack to stomach, even though he knew there was no other way. It wasn’t just for Rayner’s benefit either, since Daniel might lose that haunted expression Jack had seen a little too often in the past few hours if Rayner managed to get rid of his passenger. 

The Unas was screaming too, flailing at the red sparks that raced around them, at Rayner as the two of them twisted and writhed in the force field that held them both in place. How long was long enough? Daniel was at his shoulder and Jack stole a glance at him, seeing the same horrified expression on Daniel’s face he was certain was on his own. 

He saw the light flare in Rayner’s eyes, then snuff out like someone had turned off a lamp. That had to be it, surely? Both the Unas and Rayner still struggled, though their movements were slower now, as if the force field not only killed the hitchhiker they both carried but also sapped the strength of the host. 

“That must be it,” Daniel said. 

Daniel grabbed at Rayner’s shirt, pulling him forward. The Unas still had one long arm wrapped around Rayner, the claws digging deep into his side, and Rayner screamed again as he emerged from the force field. Then he fell into Daniel’s arms and lay still, unmoving even as Daniel lowered him to the ground.

Jack looked from Rayner to the Unas, who struggled for a moment then hung limply in the force field. The red sparks stopped as abruptly as they had begun, letting the Unas’ body fall back, into the final hall of the labyrinth. 

“Is it dead?” Daniel asked, from where he cradled Rayner's body. Jack nodded.

\---------------------

Steven had lost a lot of blood; not just from the wound the Unas had given him earlier, which had never stopped bleeding, but also from new wounds, equally deep. Only luck had prevented those terrible claws from finding an artery, otherwise Steven’s lifeblood would be spurting from him now; instead it seeped from a dozen wounds onto the dust of the cave floor. 

“He saved our lives,” Daniel said. He still couldn’t quite believe it, even though he heard himself say the words; Steven Rayner, the ultimate egotist, had done something unselfish for once in his life. “We need to get him back to the village, Jack.”

Between the two of them, they were able to slowly half-carry and half-drag Steven out, not sparing even a backward glance for the Unas. Daniel couldn’t remember being this exhausted in a long time, but still he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until they reached the entrance to the cave. He was sure Jack was as tired as he was, but maybe if neither of them said anything they could fool themselves into carrying on?

There was no sign of Kendra, though in the distance they could see the lights of what must be Gairwyn’s village. 

“We can’t make it down there in the dark,” Jack pointed out, as the two of them rested, Steven’s unconscious body still hanging between them. Daniel reached round and laid a finger against Steven’s throat, which was slick with blood, in search of a pulse; he found it, thin and slower than he would have liked, but still there. “If we try it, we could all break our necks.”

Daniel couldn’t argue with that, though he studied the sky and wondered how long it would be till dawn. Heck, he had no idea how long the days were here, or even if it was the middle of their winter, so how could they know how long it would be till there was enough light to make the journey down to Kendra’s house safely?

The sound of stone striking against stone made them tense, till they realized it had come from lower down, not from inside the cave. A few moments later a light appeared, at first low to the ground and then gradually higher; it was Kendra, carrying some kind of lantern on a long pole, taller than herself, as she climbed back to where they stood. 

“The beast is destroyed?” she asked, crossing to peer at Steven’s face in the light of her lantern. 

“It is,” Daniel said, “but my friend was badly injured. We must get back to the village.”

“Of course,” Kendra replied, then turned and led them back the way she’d just come. 

With just a look between them, Daniel and Jack shouldered their burden again and followed her as she led them down the cliff, then past her own house and down into the darkness of the forest surrounding the village. There had been stars in the night sky—Daniel had seen them when they’d been waiting on the ledge outside of the cave entrance—but there was little light beneath the trees other than that cast by Kendra’s lantern and they were forced to travel even slower.

Gairwyn met them at the edge of the village, a rough cloak thrown over what must be her sleeping robe. Her face was anxious but it eased a little when she saw that both Daniel and Jack were uninjured, before she looked at Steven and saw the extent of his injuries. It was a look that didn’t bode well for Steven’s chances, the look of a woman who had seen those kind of injuries before and could calculate the chances of survival more accurately than she might wish. 

“Bring him,” Gairwyn said, then led the way into a nearby hut. It was empty of anything but a low cot and a couple of roughly-hewn stools. “He is sorely hurt,” she continued, as they tried to lay Steven on the cot with the minimum of jostling. “Kendra, the lantern.” Daniel stepped back to give the two women room, conscious of both how small the hut was and the cloying smell of Steven’s blood on his hands and clothes. “He may yet live,” Gairwyn pronounced, after she had examined Steven. 

Jack already sat on one of the stools, his head cradled in his hands; Daniel knew how he felt, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to sit. His legs were already shaky, and all he wanted was to lie down somewhere and sleep for a thousand years. Maybe then he’d forget what he’d just seen, how Steven’s body had been tortured by both the force field that was meant to set him free and the claws of the Unas.

\---------------------

Jack tried to catch his breath, making yet another mental note to start working out more when he got back to Earth. If he got back, though hopefully that would be less of a chore than this business with Rayner had turned out to be. Rayner might even survive, if Gairwyn was right; if he was anything like as stubborn as Daniel then he had to have a fighting chance. 

Jack looked up at Daniel from where he sat, taking in with a single glance the way Daniel was standing, arms wrapped around himself as if he was the one who’d been injured, not Rayner. Daniel’s face was drawn, in what little light Kendra’s lantern cast, his eyes intent on Rayner’s unconscious body as Gairwyn bustled about. She had snapped out brisk orders to one of the men who had waited outside the small hut, then taken a light from the lantern and kindled a small fire in the middle of the hut. It was mostly smoke right now, since the wood had barely caught.

“Daniel.” It took a moment for Daniel to realize he was being spoken to and look round at Jack, his expression blank. “Daniel, sit down,” Jack continued, though he had little confidence Daniel would pay any attention to him. 

Daniel shook his head, then turned his attention back to Rayner. Even from where he was sitting, Jack could see the fine tremors that shook his frame, the first signs of shock setting in—Daniel had held it together until now, too much on his mind to allow his body to react, but now they were safe? Jack had seen someone fall apart after the fact too often not to recognize it for what it was. 

He got up from the stool, cursing his knee as a twinge of pain ripped through his leg, and crossed to where Daniel stood. Daniel didn’t seem to have noticed he was there, even as Jack wrapped one arm around Daniel’s shoulder, pulling the two of them together.

“He’s going to be okay,” Jack said, wondering if Daniel even heard him. If it was even true; those claws could carry all sorts of infection and they were a long way from antibiotics. “Time to sit down.”

That got a reaction, though Jack could still feel the tension in Daniel’s body; there was an odd combination of stiffness and shakiness he’d expected, even as he tightened his hold on Daniel’s shoulder. 

“I don’t feel so good,” Daniel said. 

Jack kicked one of the stools closer to the fire, helped Daniel sit down and squatted next to him, cursing again quietly as his knee objected to that movement. Jack risked a glance over his shoulder, to where the women were looking after Rayner, though he didn’t really want to take his attention from Daniel—he couldn’t do anything for the other man, after all, but Daniel was another matter. Jack’s responsibility, since he’d been the one to drag him along on the crazy trip to Egypt, even if Daniel would probably argue nobody had held a gun to his head and forced him to come along. 

“Gairwyn,” Jack said. She was standing by the head of the cot, not working on Steven’s wounds but wiping the worst of his blood from her hands as she watched the others tend him. “Daniel needs to lie down,” he continued, when Gairwyn looked round in response to her name.

“Come with me,” she said, crossing to where Daniel sat and taking in his condition in a glance. Even in the half-light provided by the fire and the lantern, Jack could see Gairwyn’s expression soften. 

“C’mon, Daniel,” Jack said, and got to his feet. He held out a hand to Daniel, who didn’t react, so Jack then wrapped that hand around Daniel’s bicep, half-pulling him to his feet. “Let’s get some rest.”

\---------------------

He didn’t want to leave Steven, and Jack knew that, but the expression on Jack’s face told Daniel there was no point in arguing with him. If he’d had the energy to argue, which he didn’t. Not any more. 

It was his fault, all of what had happened to Steven since they’d come here; Daniel had been the one who’d latched onto Teal’c’s story as a possible way out, a way to free Steven from Osiris, and Steven had paid the price for Daniel’s decision. That thought, and every possible combination of it, whirled in his head as he let Jack lead him from the hut where Steven lay. 

At the threshold, poised partway between the dimly-lit hut and the darkness outside, Daniel turned when Steven groaned—if he was regaining consciousness, Daniel knew he ought to be there. He needed to see the consequences of his decision through to the bitter end, and besides that Steven shouldn’t wake to unfamiliar faces. Someone should be there who he knew …

“Wrong way,” Jack said, as Daniel tried to turn back into the hut and his hand tightened on Daniel’s arm to stop him. “There’s nothing you can do for him right now.”

 _You’ve done plenty already_ , Daniel’s mind continued, as his stomach rolled at the thought of his involvement in the carnage that centered on Steven Rayner. He tried to take a deep breath, to quell the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him—he couldn’t be sick in front of Jack, in front of Gairwyn—but his lungs didn’t cooperate, his head swimming with lack of air. 

“Son of a bitch.”

That was Jack, whose insistent grip pulled him out into the darkness, following the shadowy form of Gairwyn wherever it was that she was leading them. 

_Don’t be sick, don’t be sick._ The words were a mantra for Daniel, and he made himself concentrate on them, on them and on putting one foot in front of the other as Jack and Gairwyn led him across the center of the village to somewhere. He didn’t care where they were going, not if there was a bed waiting for him. Maybe Daniel could free himself from the smell of Steven’s blood, too, when they got there.

Oh god, the blood. 

Regardless of Jack’s grip on his arm, Daniel fell to his knees, pulling Jack down with him, and vomited. The sickly-sweet smell of his clothes was too much to bear. He couldn’t see his hands, though he knew they were covered in Steven’s blood too; all Daniel could feel was the way his head pounded, his stomach still heaving even though there was nothing else left to come out. Daniel’s fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, pulling uselessly at the material around them when the buttons wouldn’t come undone. 

Jack was talking to him, the words unintelligible, a low insistent murmur that Daniel could almost feel rather than hear, as he scrabbled at his clothes. Daniel shucked off the jacket, shoving it from him violently, then someone else was there. Daniel started, almost falling back if Jack hadn’t steadied him. After a moment, he realized it was Gairwyn; Gairwyn who pushed his hands away gently, her fingers taking their place and undoing his shirt in a matter of moments. It joined the jacket on the ground. 

“Sorry.” Daniel spat once, trying to rid his mouth of the taste of bile, the smell of blood less potent now. “Sorry about that.”

He heard Jack laugh quietly, right next to him, then Jack’s hand slid between Daniel’s shoulder blades, warm and heavy, and began to rub in comforting circles. Daniel still couldn’t help feeling glad it was the middle of the night, since the darkness would cover the way his face flamed with embarrassment at what he’d just done. Bad enough that Daniel should have been affected this much by what had happened to Steven, even if he felt at least partly responsible for it, but to react this way in front of Jack, of all people? It was mortifying, to say the least.

“I've seen worse. Let’s go,” Jack said, and helped Daniel to his feet. 

There was a slight scuffling sound; after a moment, Daniel realized what it was. Jack was kicking dirt over the place where he’d vomited, even if he’d made no move toward Daniel’s discarded clothes. He didn’t want them, anyway, even if they could have been laundered to remove the blood; Daniel knew he would always associate them with what Steven had been through and that would be enough to ensure he’d never want to wear them again.

\---------------------

By the time Gairwyn led them to another hut, Daniel was almost asleep on his feet. They waited in the doorway until Gairwyn had lit a lamp, and then Jack guided Daniel to the low bed that lay in one corner, its long side along one of the walls. 

“He will sleep now,” Gairwyn said, before she left them alone. “As should you.” 

She didn’t seem at all affected by the fact there was only one bed for both of them, and Jack decided it was better not to ask what she thought was going on between him and Daniel. It made sense to share a bed, anyway, for the reassurance it would give both of them and to conserve heat, even if the night air wasn’t as chilly here as it probably was in Colorado right now. 

Daniel was lying on top of the pile of blankets that covered the low bed, and Jack took a moment to pull one of them from under him, bundling it up to place it under Daniel’s feet. He toyed with the idea of undoing Daniel’s bootlaces; the overwhelming wave of tiredness that hit Jack like a blow when he sat down on the bed told him how bad an idea that was. There was a reasonable chance Jack would plant himself face first in the dirt if he even tried. Hell, even _blinking_ seemed like too much effort. 

Jack crawled onto the bed beside Daniel, who didn’t stir. He was lying on his back, feet still elevated—he hadn’t moved at all since Jack had laid him down, and Jack was certain Daniel had been asleep even before he was fully horizontal. 

The small lamp beside the bed cast a fitful light, spluttering as a gust of wind through the open doorway caught at it. These weren’t winter quarters, they couldn’t be; Jack looked around even as his body succumbed to sleep, noting the makeshift quality of the bed under him, just a pile of skins from the feel of it. 

He woke suddenly, jolting awake when Daniel rolled, thrashing about in the grip of some nightmare. For a moment, Jack hesitated, uncertain how to deal with this; though he had a pretty good idea who was in the starring role, if Daniel’s muttered use of Rayner’s first name was anything to go by, Jack wasn’t certain how any intervention would be viewed. Maybe Daniel would want to be woken, assuming he wasn’t sleeping too deeply for Jack to manage that, and maybe he wouldn’t.

A thrashing arm that landed on Jack’s stomach soon convinced him there was a need to nip this particular nightmare in the bud. 

Daniel was curled up on his side, his back to Jack, the curve of his spine visible even in the light cast by the small lamp on Jack’s other side. Jack reached out, running a careful hand down Daniel’s side, as light a touch as he could manage, hoping that would be enough to wake him. Daniel’s skin was smooth and warm under his fingers, a tempting combination of sensations that Jack found himself reacting to, instinctively. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, feeling himself harden in response, his body reminding him of the last time he’d touched Daniel like that.

Angry with himself for reacting that way, Jack reached out, grasping Daniel’s shoulder and shaking him roughly. 

“What?” Daniel blurted out, coming awake suddenly, eyes wide. “What is it?” He pushed himself to a sitting position, knees up. “What happened?” Daniel rubbed the back of a hand across his eyes. 

“Nightmare,” Jack said, tersely. Daniel frowned and Jack wondered how much of that was in response to his tone, which had been a little snappish, all things considered. “You almost kicked me out of bed,” he continued, trying to sound amused rather than annoyed. 

“Sorry about that.” The words struck a chord; even in the dimly-lit hut, Jack could see Daniel remember the last time he’d spoken them, and the embarrassment that followed hot on the heels of that memory. “Did I really … ?” Daniel’s voice ground to a halt and he looked down at his knees. 

“It happens,” Jack said. He sounded matter of fact now, and he was pleased about that. It was, after all, no big deal where he was concerned; Jack had seen enough recruits lose their lunch in his time not to be worried about anyone blowing chunks, not any more. “Don’t worry about it.”

The words, and their tone, seemed to reassure Daniel. 

“I guess I should let us get some sleep,” he said, then started to pull at his boots. “I’m tired, but not so tired I plan to sleep with my boots on.” Daniel smiled, the effort it took to do so more than clear. “At least then if I kick you, it won’t hurt so much.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jack said. 

He had to swing his legs over the side of the bed to follow Daniel’s example, since he wasn’t quite as limber; despite how tired he was, Jack’s libido supplied some suggestions of how Daniel being that flexible could be a positive thing for both of them in the future, and Jack had to squash it mercilessly before he could lie down again.

\---------------------

Next time Daniel woke, Jack was pressed against his back, a warm solid weight of reassurance. One of Jack’s arms was draped across Daniel’s waist, his fingers splayed across Daniel’s stomach. For a moment, Daniel wondered where his clothes had gone, since he was naked from the waist up, and then he remembered; he’d fallen apart in the middle of the village, with Gairwyn needing to help him remove his shirt when his own fingers had been unable to manage the buttons. He remembered everything. 

Daniel remembered leaving Steven too, aware that he was badly injured and in pain but unable to do anything for him. Hell, he’d been so strung out it was all he could do to put one foot in front of another, despite Jack’s help, and make it here to sleep. Wherever “here” was. Daniel studied the wall in front of him, his eyes tracing each imperfection in its surface, while he wondered if he wanted to know what else had happened last night, while he slept. Had Steven even survived the night or had his wounds taken their toll?

Well, he wouldn’t find out lying here. Jack’s arm shifted a little, as if in response to Daniel making a decision to move, then Jack relaxed again and his hand slipped from Daniel’s stomach, sliding down his side to rest on the waistband of Daniel’s pants. Slowly, Daniel eased himself up to a sitting position in the bed, Jack’s hand slipping easily down Daniel’s leg. He could do this, he could maneuver himself off the bed without waking Jack—in repose, Jack still looked exhausted, deep circles under his eyes reinforcing Daniel’s determination not to wake him if he could manage it. As he watched, Jack shifted in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. 

That clinched it. Daniel shuffled his way to the bottom of the bed and found his boots lying there, though he could barely remember taking them off. Once he put them on, then got off the bed as carefully as he could manage, Daniel crossed to the doorway and looked out. 

It was a bright, crisp day; it was almost impossible to believe the sun had risen after what he’d gone through the previous night, what Steven had gone through. Daniel paused a moment on the threshold, mesmerized by the blueness of the sky, then glanced back at Jack. Still asleep. 

Daniel had no idea where this hut was in relation to the one where they’d carried Steven, but the village itself wasn’t that large, so he worked his way methodically through the place. The small pile of clothes he must have abandoned the previous night made him pause, looking at the brown stains that marked both shirt and jacket, an odd bulge in the pocket of the latter making him realize the zat weapon he’d been carrying was still in it. Embarrassed, Daniel retrieved it, following Jack’s example and shoving it into his waistband since he didn’t really have much of an alternative. 

When he found the hut that housed Steven, Daniel found that he felt uncertain of his welcome—it took a long moment before he could even steel himself to enter, to find out if his former lover was alive, let alone think he would be welcomed if Steven was still living. 

Kendra was sitting beside Steven’s cot, her mass of curling hair pulled back from her face with a leather thong, leaving a long scar visible at the base of her neck—it both intrigued and appalled Daniel in equal measure once he realized what it had to be. She glanced up at him, her expression cool when she saw she had been observed without her knowledge, even though she had made no secret before of the fact she had been a host. 

“How is he?” Daniel asked, making himself concentrate on the still figure on the cot. Even those three words were an effort, forced past chapped lips that seemed unwilling to form any sound that would make sense. “Is he..?”

“He lives,” Kendra said, then turned to the jar of water that sat on the floor at her feet. She poured a cup of it, holding it out to Daniel without getting up from her seat. “Your friend is strong.”

Daniel took a mouthful of water. He hadn’t realized before how dry his mouth was, and he swilled the first mouthful around, stepping to the doorway to spit it out even as he was aware of Kendra’s eyes on him. 

“I was sick,” he said, as an explanation, though she hadn’t spoken. She might not be a Goa’uld any more, but her gaze was still commanding. “Last night.”

Kendra turned her attention back to Steven. Daniel walked to the foot of the cot, where he stood, looking down at his former lover as he drank off the contents of the cup. Steven’s face was pale, his eyes closed, the black eye Jack had given him standing out livid against the pallor of his skin. His wounds had not been bandaged, but instead each bore a poultice, dark green as the forest that surrounded the village; Daniel didn’t need to see the wounds beneath to know what they looked like, his imagination and memory combining to fill in the rest. 

“No fever?” he asked. That would be something of a miracle, considering the likelihood of infection from the Unas’ claws and the fact Steven had pretty much been dragged here from the labyrinth. “Has he woken?”

“No fever,” Kendra said. She leaned forward, laying a hand on Steven’s forehead to check, then sat back, apparently pleased with the result. “And he woke once, while we were tending to the wounds. Now he sleeps, under the hand of Eir.” She rose from the stool, gesturing to it. “Sit with him, while I fetch us some food for our morning meal.”


	7. Chapter 7

In hindsight, Jack figured he would have been more surprised to wake and find Daniel still in bed with him; even though Daniel had been exhausted, the shock finally kicking in as they’d left Steven with the people who were tending to his wounds, he was nothing if not predictable in some ways. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Daniel would go looking for Steven as soon as he was fully awake and that Jack should do likewise, if he wanted to check Daniel was okay. 

Jack stretched, feeling the ache in his muscles as he did so. He hadn’t been as affected by witnessing what Rayner had gone through as Daniel had, but he’d been tired too—bone tired, feeling every single one of his years. He didn’t want to go through this kind of thing again any time soon. 

Outside the hut, once Jack had pulled his boots on even though he hadn’t bothered to lace them up, the first person he saw was Kendra, heading out of the hut Jack vaguely remembered as being the one where they’d taken Rayner. It figured that was where Daniel would be, if he’d found his way there by now; he’d been pretty out of it by the time they’d got to the village and it had been the middle of the night, after all. 

Kendra looked tired too, Jack saw, when he reached her. Her smile was genuine enough, though, even if she looked like she’d been awake all night. 

“Your friend still lives,” Kendra said, without any preamble.

“Not my friend,” Jack said, something he couldn’t have given a name to urging him to be honest with her. “He’s Daniel’s friend, not mine.” Kendra’s face darkened at Jack’s words, her expression clouding over suddenly. “Daniel will be glad he’s okay,” Jack continued, hoping those words would ease things a little. 

He wasn’t sure his true feelings about Steven Rayner would be welcome, if Kendra’s original reaction to his honesty was anything to go by. 

“I will return with food,” Kendra said, finally, looking at a loss for anything else to say in the light of that revelation. 

Jack didn’t hesitate, just nodded his understanding of the answer she hadn’t given and passed her; he stopped at the doorway of the hut, looking in on a tableau of Daniel and Steven Rayner, every line of Daniel’s body telling Jack more than he could have expected to know about what Daniel thought had happened. Rayner was lying very still, his face waxen and pale, eyes closed. Beside him, Daniel sat, leaning forward as if he was checking that Rayner was still breathing. 

It was irrational, Jack knew that, but a small part of him wished Rayner hadn’t survived. Sure, Daniel would have taken it hard but Jack had every confidence he’d have made it through okay; nobody that stubborn would be broken up for too long where someone like Rayner was concerned. Now, Daniel would be torturing himself over what had happened, because of his guilt for the part he’d played in bringing Rayner to this planet. 

Ironic, really, considering that if Daniel _hadn’t_ got his way Jack would have guaranteed Rayner could be spending the rest of his life staring at the walls of an Air Force-run psychiatric facility. Not that Jack had any intention of sharing that particular piece of information with Daniel if he could get away with avoiding the subject completely. They’d never talked about the alternatives to coming here and testing out Teal’c’s legend; Jack wondered whether Daniel realized how close Rayner had come to a life sentence in another way entirely. 

“He’s still alive, Jack.” 

Jack took the words as an invitation and crossed the threshold into the hut, though he was more interested in Daniel’s well being than he could ever be in Rayner. Daniel spared him a glance, his face still clearly showing how tired he was, then turned his attention back to the other man. 

“Kendra told me.” Jack didn’t bother to repeat what he’d said to her; if Daniel didn’t already know how Jack felt about the man Daniel was currently lavishing so much attention on, he was a worse judge of character than Jack thought. He was sure Daniel had no illusions about his view of Steven Rayner. “You should still be asleep, Daniel.”

“I had to know how he was doing,” Daniel said. He looked at Jack as he spoke, his eyes unwavering. “It’s my fault Steven’s here, after all.”

\---------------------

Daniel hadn’t meant to say the words, though he was certain Jack already knew how he felt; they dropped like a stone into the space between the two of them. Daniel watched Jack’s face, looking for a reaction, anything that would break the surface of the calm façade Jack seemed to have adopted this morning. He wasn’t sure what he expected from Jack—vehement denial, probably, since he was certain Jack wouldn’t agree with his apportioning blame this way—but this lack of response was unnerving. 

“When did you force him to become a host?” Jack asked. He wasn’t looking at Daniel as he spoke; Jack was watching Steven, as if he still believed Steven was a host, as if they hadn’t seen the violent destruction of that particular aspect of their recent history only hours before. “How was it _your fault_ he tried to kill you, Daniel?” That was a little more emphatic, those words snapped out.

It was so simple if you put it like that, while the truth about things between him and Steven Rayner had never been simple. If only that had been the case, then maybe Daniel would never have become involved with Steven the way he had; that would probably have been better for both of them in the long run. 

“I didn’t make him do any of that,” Daniel said, “but we brought him here because I believed the story Teal’c told us.” Jack’s only response to that was an exasperated noise Daniel couldn’t quite identify. “What would you have done if I hadn’t insisted on coming to Cimmeria?”

Jack looked thoughtful, his eyes still on Steven for a moment before he turned his attention back to Daniel, as if he’d forgotten Daniel was there despite the question. 

“Taken him to the Alpha site,” Jack replied. “It’s the only way home that’s open to us—we have something over the Chappa’ai in Colorado that prevents unwanted callers.”

“And then what?” Daniel was certain there was something Jack wasn’t telling him, something they hadn’t got around to discussing before Daniel had seized on the idea of Cimmeria as a cure-all for Steven’s problem. “What would happen to Steven then?” 

“We have… facilities,” Jack replied. “I don’t like it any better than you, Daniel.” He seemed to be forestalling any objections Daniel might make; Daniel couldn’t help a cynical smile at that. It seemed Jack had come to understand him pretty well in a short space of time. 

Daniel looked back at Steven, wondering if he’d done the right thing after all. Even without the injuries, which had not been part of the plan, surely this whole situation had to be better than four walls for the rest of Steven’s life; Daniel couldn’t imagine what that would be like, to be cut off that way from the rest of humanity because of something over which he had no control. 

“Okay,” Daniel said, finally. “Maybe it’s not my fault.” He sighed. “But that doesn’t stop me thinking this could have all worked out much better, for everyone concerned.”

Jack laughed. At that sound the tension that lay between them evaporated.

“That sounds like the story of my life, Daniel. Best laid plans and all that.”

There was another stool, closer to the fire, and Jack crossed to it and sat down, pushing back with his feet until he could lean back against the wall without too much risk of falling over backwards. He stretched, the movement revealing a slice of his stomach for a moment until he relaxed again, watching the fire. 

“We could be here a while,” Daniel said, making himself turn back to Steven. That small glimpse of Jack’s skin had done unexpected things, regardless of the tension that had been between them; Daniel wondered at the fact his libido was still up and running despite everything that had happened. “You know that.”

“It’s not so bad,” Jack said. “Trust me on this, Daniel. I’ve been places off-world make this look like a five-star resort.”

\---------------------

After that, Kendra brought them some food and the three of them ate together. There was no conversation between them, since they were all tired; besides Jack didn’t really know what to say to either of them. 

Kendra was still more than a little frosty toward him, Jack realized, though he could understand why that was—she probably thought he was dead against Rayner because he’d been a host, as she had, while the truth was that Jack had disliked the guy long before he’d even known that was the case. As for Daniel, Jack didn’t want to jinx things; he felt as though he’d built a bridge between them, the tentative agreement on Daniel’s part that this wasn’t all his fault still something Jack couldn’t rely on to last for long. He hoped it would, but there was every chance another guilt trip would wreck it some time soon. 

In the end, he left Daniel with Rayner, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. But what alternative did he really have? He couldn’t make Daniel leave the other man, not while Rayner was so badly hurt; making Daniel do something he didn’t want to do was a one-way ticket to disrupting every chance of any good thing he’d had with Daniel Jackson repeating itself in the future. It hadn’t taken long for Jack to figure that Daniel would do whatever he wanted, and anyone who tried to make him do something was riding for a fall. Jack had enough of a survival instinct to realize it wasn’t a good idea to push his luck that way.

Besides, he was still tired, so the thought of getting a few hours shuteye was more than a little attractive, even if it meant leaving Daniel to stew in his own juices where Rayner was concerned. If Jack was able to get to sleep, that is, instead of his mind running circles round the idea of what else they could have done. Not because Jack really thought he could have persuaded Daniel not to follow up Teal’c’s story, no matter how unlikely it seemed, but because his mind had nothing better to focus on right now. 

Jack briefly considered jerking off, but somehow, since he’d been having sex with Daniel, the kind of relief he could get from just his own hand wasn’t quite as attractive any more. Daniel had provided him with plenty of fantasy material—even the vaguest memories of warm skin under Jack’s hands was enough to make him harden. Not that this was too much of a recommendation at times, since there were days when a change in wind direction seemed sufficient for that as well.

A movement by the doorway distracted Jack’s attention—Daniel was standing there, looking uncertain, an unfamiliar looking shirt in his hand. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, which seemed an odd question to ask when they were staying in a place with no door. 

“New shirt?” 

Jack shifted over on the bed in unspoken invitation, hoping Daniel still felt welcome considering the way he was still loitering at the threshold. After a moment’s hesitation, Daniel got the message, and came over to sit on the bed where Jack had left space for him. 

“Gairwyn gave it to me,” Daniel replied, looking down at the shirt before dropping it onto the bed. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he continued, leaning back against the wall. 

“Oh?” 

Jack had said a lot of things, so he’d need more of a clue than that, particularly since it was clear Daniel had changed the subject and wasn’t talking about clothes any more. 

“What will happen to Steven when we get back to Earth?” Daniel asked, his face so serious that for a moment Jack wondered if Daniel had taken on board what he’d said about not being to blame for their current situation. “I guess we’re both in the same boat. Other than the whole alien possession thing, since we both know a little too much about what’s ‘out there.’ ” 

Jack couldn’t help himself. Before Daniel could object, he leaned over and kissed him, moving so he had one hand braced beside Daniel’s head but the rest of his weight on the other, flat on the bed. Daniel didn’t react for a moment, caught between Jack and the hut wall. Then, with an incoherent sound, his hand came up and caught at Jack’s shoulders, fingers gripping hard as Daniel responded, using the leverage the wall gave his other hand to push himself forward.

The two of them toppled over in a tangle onto the bed, Jack underneath now, as one of Daniel’s hands slipped under the material of Jack’s shirt and his long fingers traveled the length of Jack’s spine.

“Jesus, Daniel,” Jack gasped, as Daniel’s attention moved to his neck, his mouth on the place where the curve of Jack’s shoulder began. Jack could feel Daniel’s erection, pressing hot and heavy against him, unmistakable partner to his own arousal, which the combined attentions of Daniel’s mouth and hands were doing little to quell. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Jack?” Daniel asked, as he leaned back a little so he was looking down on Jack, who still lay beneath him. Daniel shifted his weight a little, moving in a calculated manner; all the time his eyes held Jack’s, the light of desire evident in them. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this,” he continued, punctuating the words with a smooth movement of his hips that made Jack think he could lose control any moment. “You’re not that good a liar.” 

That seemed to be his final word on the subject; Daniel leaned down and kissed Jack again, and Jack couldn’t find the words to disagree with him.

\---------------------

Daniel woke, wondering how long he’d been asleep this time; he hadn’t realized quite how tired he was, how tired they both were the way Jack was currently tangled around him on the bed they shared, if that was anything to go by. And that neither of them had cared too much that the place where they’d just had sex didn’t even boast a door. Too late to be embarrassed about it now, though. 

Whatever it was about Jack O’Neill, it seemed he had the power to drive Daniel crazy, in more ways than one. There was something about the dynamic between them, the spark that existed whenever the two of them were alone together, like it or not. Something that Daniel had never really experienced before, though he’d hardly been a blushing virgin by the time he and Jack had met. He’d had some good times with Steven, but not like this. Somehow, even tired and dirty, the worst times Daniel had with Jack seemed to be better than anything he could remember having, either with Steven or anyone else. 

There was a crazy kind of irony to the whole situation; here they were, thousands of light years across the galaxy, and Daniel Jackson was consistently having the best sex of his life with a man he hadn’t known existed just a few short days ago. 

But if life had taught him anything, it was that good things never lasted, though that was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the ride while it lasted. 

He ought to get up, see how Steven was doing, but there was something reassuring about just lying here, with Jack wrapped around him. For a few minutes more, at least, until the more mundane demands of his body became a little too much; there was a limit to how long you could tolerate being uncomfortable, even in the afterglow from really good sex. 

Jack hadn’t answered his question earlier, though Daniel hadn’t really expected he would. In some ways, Steven’s fate was likely to be more predictable than his own—he expected there would be scans of some kind, like the ones Dr. Fraiser had used on the Imsety jar, to establish he was no longer a host. While it was clear that the Goa’uld had access to the memories of the host, Daniel had no idea if that was a two-way street; could Steven remember the things Osiris had once known? Would he be able to speak the language of the Goa’uld, or read their writing?

It was only a momentary twinge of jealousy, and Daniel recognized it for what it was at once. And also how foolish it was to be jealous of him, considering the price Steven had paid for that knowledge, if he even possessed it. 

If that was the case, the Air Force would certainly want to keep hold of Steven—maybe not in the secure facility Jack had described, but certainly something very like it until they had all the information he could give them. Assuming that the death of Osiris hadn’t stripped Steven of everything, not just of what the Goa’uld had known but of everything Steven himself had once known. Kendra had survived, that much was certain, and that fact was the only thing that gave Daniel any confidence that Steven might be able to emerge from this situation relatively unscathed. 

Unscathed, certainly, but would Steven be at liberty to talk about the things he’d been through? Then again, other than certain less salacious parts of the media, who would believe Steven if he did talk? He had no proof to back his statements, no evidence of either the existence of the Goa’uld or the project that lay deep beneath Cheyenne Mountain. Daniel was certain there was little chance of anyone proving either of those things without the Air Force stepping in with some degree of force to back up their decision. 

Besides which, Steven’s ego wouldn’t allow him to be humiliated that way. It was one thing for Daniel Jackson to stand up and bring ridicule upon himself for his crackpot theories, but quite another for Steven Rayner to do the same. His book had been bad enough, and that at least had the incentive of a healthy advance behind it. 

As for himself, well that remained to be seen. It was tempting to wonder what life would have been like, if the Daniel Jackson who had been approached by Catherine Langford on that wet Chicago night had been in a position to take her up on what she’d never had a chance to offer him. That Daniel didn’t exist any more, subsumed as he was in the duties he’d willingly shouldered at Professor Jordan’s behest. Daniel wasn’t sure how he’d react now, if he were to be given the chance, if the invitation to join the project at Cheyenne Mountain was still open. 

It wasn’t about Jack. Or at least not completely, though Daniel wasn’t prepared to lie to himself and say that what he’d experienced with Jack over the past few days, both personally and professionally, had no influence on him. His eyes had been opened to another world, to the scope of the universe, in a way he had never anticipated—what scientist could resist the lure of the unknown? 

The one thing he couldn’t be sure of was Jack himself—things between them were still so new, the novelty had yet to wear off and Daniel wasn’t sure he could cope with the idea of things petering out between them. If it came down to a straight choice between exploring the universe and spending his nights in Jack’s bed, Daniel knew it would be a close-run thing; he wasn’t sure which way the dice would fall if it came down to that, and perhaps it never would. 

Daniel could be sure of that, though, if he walked away. His life in Chicago was there, waiting for him to come back. Daniel thought about that for a moment, cataloguing the things he’d miss if he didn’t go back—Isobel, for starters—but he knew there were very few things he couldn’t imagine doing without. 

And on the other side of the balance, there was the universe and Jack O’Neill. If he was honest with himself, Daniel knew either of them on their own would be incredibly tempting when it came to persuading him to leave what he’d made of his life at the Oriental Institute.

\---------------------

One thing about sharing a bed with Daniel, Jack decided, when he woke from a fitful sleep, was that you could pretty much guarantee if he was awake he was worrying about something. Or thinking about something he’d probably end up worrying about at some point in the near future. 

Daniel should have been relaxed, the two of them tangled up together comfortably, but Jack was still certain he could hear the cogs going round in the good professor’s brain. Once he realized Daniel was awake, which didn’t take much figuring out when Daniel shifted against him a little. 

“Does that brain of yours ever shut down?” Jack asked, the words murmured into the back of Daniel’s neck. 

The curve of Daniel’s jaw was tempting, almost too tempting, but Jack made himself resist the urge to allow his mouth to work its way along it. There was little chance of a proper rematch, all things considered; Jack wasn’t _quite_ as young as he used to be, even with Daniel Jackson for incentive. 

“Not often,” Daniel replied, relaxing a little as he spoke. Jack could still feel the slight tension in Daniel’s body, the smoothness of his skin not hiding anything from his touch. “Occupational hazard.”

“What now?” Jack wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but somehow figured he ought to ask. It felt as though he needed to look willing, to give some indication this wasn’t just about great sex—though the sex was great, incredible even—but something more than that, to him at least. “Do I want to know?”

Daniel paused before he answered, and Jack wondered whether he’d really hit the nail on the head with his last question. 

“It’s about Steven.” Daniel had tensed up again, the muscles in his stomach clenching under where Jack’s hand lay, and Jack wondered whether Daniel realized he was quite so easy to read. Or at least easy when you were sharing a bed with him, if not at any other time. “What’s going to happen to him, Jack?” Daniel paused, as if steeling himself to add something unpleasant. “And to me, as well?” he added, finally, then turned over to face Jack, his expression giving the impression he knew he wasn’t going to like what he heard but that he needed to face it head on anyway.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Daniel,” Jack said. “You’re in a better position right now than Steven Rayner is; we know your security clearance is good, and you weren’t compromised like he was.”

Daniel’s expression had softened a little at his words, as if he was glad Jack was being truthful with him and not soft soaping the situation for his benefit, but he still didn’t look convinced that any of the possible options for Rayner were likely to be good ones. And Jack couldn’t blame him at all for feeling that way. 

“Worst case scenario. That facility I mentioned.” 

“I see,” Daniel said. “How soon?” 

He hadn’t moved, his expression now warring between resolute and mutinous, a stubborn jut to his jaw that Jack couldn’t help finding intriguing, even though the circumstances bringing it about had been bad. 

“I doubt Rayner will be well enough to travel any time soon. And in the meantime,” Jack continued, sliding his hand over Daniel’s stomach, “we’ll need to make our own entertainment.”

Daniel relaxed under Jack’s hand, his eyes closing, then he rolled over onto his side again, facing away from Jack once more. Not that Jack was fooled into thinking Daniel’s mind had switched off just because his eyes had closed—nothing of the sort, if he knew the professor. Still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy themselves in the space between now and Jack finding out just what it was Daniel was thinking about this time around.

\---------------------

At least Jack had been honest with him. If there was nothing else Daniel could cling to from the mess in which Steven now found himself, it was that fact—it must have been tempting for Jack to lie, or at least underplay the seriousness of the situation, but he hadn’t done either. 

Daniel considered that as he sat beside Steven’s bed, watching him sleep. At least Steven had lost that awful pallor, and somehow he’d managed not to get an infection from the claw marks the Unas had given him, so that was a good sign. Wasn’t it? Even if the possible outcome of this whole scenario was a one-way trip to a secure Air Force facility for the rest of his life, that had to be better than continuing to be a host or dying because of the efforts they’d made to rid him of that parasite. 

“Daniel?” It took a moment for Daniel to realize that it was Steven who’d spoken, his name barely a whisper. 

“I’m here, Steven,” Daniel said, leaning forward. He took Steven’s hand, gripping it fiercely as if he could pass on some of his own energy to the other man and somehow speed up the healing process. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Steven said, as he tried to smile. The effort was pretty feeble, barely a twitch of his lip. “Did you get the number?”

“Let me get you some water,” Daniel said, letting go of Steven’s hand reluctantly. There was a jug sitting beside the bed, a cloth covering its top, and a carved wooden cup beside it. “Here,” he continued, as he slipped a hand behind Steven’s neck and helped him lean forward a little so he could drink. “Slowly.”

After a moment, Daniel let Steven lie back down again, replaced the half-empty cup by the jug, then took Steven’s hand in his own once more. Was it his imagination, or did Steven’s grip feel a little stronger than previously?

“What do you remember, Steven?” Steven had closed his eyes once more, his face as relaxed as it was possible to be, considering the injuries he’d sustained. “Do you remember anything about Osiris?”

The name alone was enough to get a reaction from Steven, whose eyes snapped open as if Daniel had given him an electric shock. 

“Everything,” he said, quietly. His eyes sought Daniel’s face, an apology in his expression. “Daniel, I remember _everything_.” 

It was all Daniel could do not to let Steven’s hand drop at the last word the other man spoke, the volumes of information that single word held. Everything that had happened between them while Steven was a host, the things even Jack didn’t know about though Daniel was sure he had an idea. Instead, he tightened his grip, certain that if there was one thing Steven needed right now, it was reassurance that he hadn’t gone beyond the pale; that it had been Osiris who had done those things, not Steven, not the man with whom he’d once shared a bed. 

“Steven,” Daniel began, then there was a movement at the doorway to the hut. Daniel glanced over his shoulder, saw Jack standing there. Daniel didn’t move, didn’t let go of Steven’s hand even though the expression on Jack’s face told Daniel exactly what he was thinking. “It’s not important,” he continued, turning his attention back to Steven. “You just need to get better.”

Daniel glanced over his shoulder again, briefly, when Steven didn’t respond to those words; the doorway was empty. When he looked back to Steven, his eyes had closed again and he looked more relaxed.

\---------------------

He was a jealous son of a bitch, apparently, it was as simple as that. 

Just the sight of Daniel sitting by Rayner’s bedside, holding his hand like he’d done nothing to deserve what happened to him, was enough to turn Jack’s stomach. He usually considered himself a tolerant kind of guy—live and let live, and all that—except when someone hurt somebody he cared about. Steven Rayner had done that, in spades, both before and while he was a host and now Daniel was acting like none of it mattered? 

Jack hadn’t been able to tolerate the sight for more than a few moments, though in hindsight he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised at Daniel’s attitude. He was certain he didn’t know half of what had gone on between Daniel and Osiris—truth was, he didn’t particularly want to know, at least not now Osiris wasn’t around to lay into—but that was no reason for Daniel to act this way. Hadn’t Osiris killed Jack once, then forced Daniel to enter into some oddball agreement with him, the terms of which Jack still wasn’t totally clear about?

“You are angered, my friend.” 

Jack looked round, and found he was standing in the middle of the village, under the watchful eyes of Gairwyn. He hadn’t seen Kendra in a little while and he wondered if she’d gone back to where she lived, finding being with people too much to cope with—Jack understood that feeling well enough, shared it often. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, even though he knew she didn’t believe him. 

“Each of us chooses our own path,” Gairwyn continued. “For good or ill, we cannot choose it for another.” 

She looked in the direction of the hut, her expression both calm and knowledgeable. Jack was certain Gairwyn knew how he felt about Daniel, how he’d hoped Daniel felt about him, and the potential Steven Rayner represented of messing with that comfortable arrangement. When Gairwyn looked back at him, her perceptive eyes made Jack look away. 

“No matter how much we might wish to do so.”

Jack looked back toward the hut himself now, saw Daniel emerge from it and see the two of them. He had that familiar obstinate expression on his face, unmistakable even from this distance. 

“Gairwyn,” Daniel said, as he reached where they stood. “Are you well?” 

Gairwyn inclined her head in response to Daniel’s question, the casual acceptance of one who has no doubts about her place in the greater scheme of things. Jack envied her, right now, because he felt nothing like as casual about where he stood. 

“Jack.” Daniel was looking at him now. “I think we need to talk.”

\---------------------

After a few moments, probably sensing the atmosphere between them, Gairwyn made her excuses and left him alone with Jack. This seemed like as good a place as any to talk about this, since it was clear this wasn’t going to be a conversation either of them would enjoy, so what did it matter where they had it? 

“Let’s hear it,” Jack said, tersely. Daniel looked at him for a moment before he responded, noticing the way Jack held himself, as if he expected to have to run for his life at any moment. “Don’t hold back on my account, Daniel.”

“This isn’t easy for me.” Daniel was still watching Jack, though Jack in turn was studying the ground at his feet. “So I’ll just come out and say it …” Jack didn’t look up; the only indication he’d heard the words was an increase in tension that Daniel only noticed because he was watching for it. “I think we should let Steven go.”

Jack’s head snapped up, his expression unreadable for a moment—Daniel had expected shock, or outright anger at the suggestion Steven shouldn’t go back to Earth with them, but not whatever this was. 

“Go where?” Jack looked thoughtful then, as if Daniel’s words had finally sunk in, his question just a reflex movement, a reaction without thinking. “I thought …” Jack’s jaw tightened and the words stopped in mid-sentence. 

“Anywhere,” Daniel said. “Anywhere that doesn’t have bars on the windows.” He took a step closer to where Jack stood; it was a cautious movement, uncertain of how it would be received. “What kind of life could he have back on Earth? He’d be a prisoner for the rest of his life, and you know it.”

“I’m a serving member of the United States Air Force, Daniel,” Jack said, quietly. “I can’t just let him go because you ask nicely.”

“Because he’s too much of an asset to the project? Because of what he knows, or what you think he knows?”

Jack nodded. “Got it in one,” he said. 

Daniel considered that for a moment—once he’d hit upon the idea of Steven just “disappearing” somewhere off world, he’d known Jack would object, and on just those grounds. For all his faults, Jack was an Air Force officer, through and through, so there needed to be something in terms of plausible deniability for both of them. Daniel had no intention of being forced to choose his need to see Steven Rayner avoid a life sentence over whatever-it-was he had with Jack O’Neill. 

“And if I told you he doesn’t know anything,” Daniel said. “That you’d be wasting your time incarcerating Steven because he doesn’t remember anything about Osiris?”

“I’d say you were lying, Daniel.”

Jack’s expression hadn’t changed, the tone of his voice was unaltered, but there was a perceptible layer of ice through those words. He’d heard enough, Daniel realized, to know just what it was Daniel was trying to cover up. To balance the information they might gain from Steven against the value Jack placed on whatever he’d had with Daniel. It wasn’t a set of mental calculations that Daniel envied him at all. 

“In which case,” Daniel said, “I can only apologize.”

“Apologize?” Jack asked. “What for?”

“This,” Daniel said, and then pulled out the zat gun he’d pocketed earlier and fired, once.

\---------------------

When Jack woke, his head pounding like he’d been run down by a herd of elephants, the first thing he did was exercise his vocabulary, mentally at least, calling Daniel Jackson every name under the sun he could think of, and some he wasn’t sure he remembered right. The sneaky little so and so had shot him!

Jack didn’t bother to rush to the hut where Rayner had been, sure it would be empty; instead he concentrated on clearing his head, and wondering just when Daniel would get back from wherever he’d gone. Because there was no question Daniel would be gone as well, with Rayner wherever the two of them had decided would be a good place to lay low for a while. All he could hope was that Daniel planned to come back, rather than indulging his newfound taste for travel via the Chappa’ai, or an older taste for Steven Rayner’s company.

After a few minutes, Jack’s head stopped throbbing and he stood, carefully, feeling like an old man. He crossed to the hut where Rayner had been convalescing, finding it unoccupied, as he’d expected. 

“Your friends are gone.” Jack turned, slowly—it was Kendra, a basket over her arm. “I saw them leave through the portal.”

“Did you see where they went?” Jack asked. “The symbols, did you see the symbols?” 

Kendra shook her head, though Jack wasn’t totally sure he believed her. She’d already made it clear what she thought of him, that she felt he disliked Rayner because he’d been a host, and by extension felt the same way about her. 

All he could do was wait, then. Kendra walked past him, into the hut, and from the doorway Jack could see her collecting the detritus of Rayner’s treatment—jars of the foul-smelling poultice, the jug of water that had stood by the bed—before she began to strip the bed itself of the material that had covered it. Jack turned away then, wondering just how much of a head start Daniel and Rayner really had. He was certain he hadn’t been unconscious for long, it was a trek to the Chappa’ai, and the two of them couldn’t travel that fast considering how recently Rayner had been at death’s door. There was a chance Jack could catch them and intercept the two of them before they went off world …

Daniel’s words came back to him in a rush, and he understood then just what it was that had motivated Daniel to act that way. He’d known Jack wouldn’t go along with whatever it was he was planning, with anything that would take a potentially valuable asset—which Steven Rayner certainly was, if he had any knowledge of the Goa’uld with whom he’d shared a body—out of reach forever. Daniel had acted in the only way possible, to give Jack plausible deniability rather than making him an accomplice in his half-baked plan to prevent Rayner being incarcerated. 

Damn him. Daniel had been right all along, that was the most annoying part—Jack couldn’t argue with the logic behind his actions, even if he didn’t quite agree that Rayner was worth the risk Daniel was taking now. For a moment, Jack had been certain he was about to get blown off in favor of Rayner, which would have been difficult to bear. In some ways he’d almost been relieved to discover that Daniel’s anxiety had another source completely, and that it was just a result of good old-fashioned scheming. 

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where Daniel would go. Where could he go, other than back to the free Jaffa? If Jack had been planning to run and hide, there were a couple of dozen worlds he knew the coordinates for, places he would never be found, but the only places Daniel knew were here on Cimmeria and the planet where Teal’c and Bra’tac were currently living. 

At least they could be certain of a warm welcome with the Jaffa, who’d be more than happy to get whatever information they could, even if Rayner would probably whine his ass off once he realized Daniel had helped him exchange one prison for another, just larger in scope. 

Jack glanced up at the sky, wondering how long ago Daniel and Rayner had left, or if they’d even reached the Chappa’ai yet. He’d give them a few hours, and if Daniel wasn’t back before nightfall he’d have something to say about it. Not that he gave a damn about Rayner—they could crank up the Chappa’ai, pick a combination of symbols at random and throw him through headfirst for all Jack cared about the man—but Daniel was another matter. 

The two of them needed to have a little talk about Daniel’s priorities when the good professor came back, after all.

\---------------------

Daniel couldn’t deny he’d had a pang of conscience when Jack collapsed into the dirt in the middle of the village, even though he knew the zat wouldn’t really harm Jack that much—he’d been on the receiving end himself, after all, so Daniel could at least speak from experience on that subject. Jack was going to be mad at him, though, and no amount of justifying his own behavior made that less of a reality. 

As he waited for the Chappa’ai to work, the now-familiar symbols for Cimmeria lighting one after another, at least Daniel had the memories of the reception Steven had received from both Teal’c and Bra’tac as reassurance he’d done the right thing. Whatever knowledge Steven had, no matter how much or how little it turned out to be, would be in good hands with the free Jaffa, who would use it to further their cause. 

Not that Steven had been convinced, at first, but it hadn’t taken much persuasion in the end on Daniel’s part to make him see how unlikely it was the US Air Force would just pat him on the head and send him on his way. He’d been the host of an alien parasitic life form, after all, a creature who might hold all sorts of secrets that people would give a great deal to get their hands on. The chance of lifelong incarceration was too great a risk to take, even for someone with Steven’s apparently inexhaustible ego. 

It had also taken some persuasion on Daniel’s part to reassure Steven that he’d be okay without him. That, in fact, Daniel had been managing perfectly well in recent months without Steven Rayner in his bed, or in his life at all if, and that he’d struggle on somehow in the future. Once, Daniel would have said that Jack O’Neill might play a large part in helping with that particular aspect of his future, but now he wasn’t quite so sure—Daniel _had_ shot him, after all, while helping someone Jack knew was his former lover escape what Jack might consider justice. 

At last, the final symbol locked and the Chappa’ai flared to life, and Daniel walked toward its rippling blue center as soon as it stabilized—he didn’t look back, being more concerned about what he would find waiting for him on the other side than what he was leaving here. This side of the Chappa’ai it was twilight, while when Daniel emerged from the other side it was clearly just before dawn. The stone pillar didn’t react to his appearance, as he thought would be the case, and when the Chappa’ai disengaged behind him the world around Daniel went dim once again. 

There was a little light on the horizon, a haze of color that told Daniel the dawn wasn’t far away, even on a planet where he had no idea how long the days actually lasted. He was alone, as well, since there was no welcoming committee; Daniel wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It meant he had time to figure out what to say to Jack, but it also gave Jack more time to stew, and that was probably a bad thing. Daniel wasn’t sure, after all, how forgiving Jack was likely to be of being shot, even if he’d previously seemed to take things like that in his stride. 

It was hard to theorize from the relatively brief time they’d known one another, Daniel decided, as he sat down on the edge of the platform on which the Chappa’ai sat and waited for enough light to be able to make the trip to Gairwyn’s village safely. 

After what felt like a couple of hours, Daniel was sure he could find his own way, if he could recall the paths along which Gairwyn had led them from the Chappa’ai a couple of days earlier. It had been easier to follow her, of course, but as he traveled through the forest Daniel was fairly sure he knew where he was going. It was darker there, of course, which made the going slow and meant he had to concentrate on where he put his feet; even though the paths Daniel was using were fairly well-used, the last thing he needed was to misstep here in the middle of nowhere. 

Eventually, after what seemed a much longer journey than his previous one following Gairwyn, Daniel found himself on the ridge that lay just outside the village itself. There were signs of movement down in the valley, smoke rising from a couple of the huts and someone drawing water from the well. There was no sign of Jack, for which Daniel found himself unaccountably glad.

\---------------------

Somehow, he knew Daniel was back, even before he saw him heading down the slope that led into the village, and Jack was equally certain Daniel hadn’t seen him watching. He probably expected Jack to be waiting for him, which he was, but that didn’t mean Jack had to be that predictable. They were going to have some kind of face off, he was certain of that, but at the moment Jack was also certain he wanted to control when and where that encounter took place. He wanted Daniel off-balance, even though that was probably not a common occurrence for him. 

The trips through the Chappa’ai would be disorientating Daniel—Jack had no idea what time it was on the planet where Teal’c lived, but travel by wormhole still had the effect of causing something a little like jetlag for those who weren’t used to it. Even for those who were, it could be unsettling to leave one planet in the middle of the night and emerge the other side of the wormhole in bright daylight. 

Years of experience in seeing without being seen helped Jack trail Daniel to the hut they’d both been occupying—though Daniel looked round a couple of times, Jack was certain he hadn’t been observed. That would be unsettling as well, since Daniel would expect Jack to be there. He didn’t think Daniel would believe Jack had decided to head back to Earth without him, though, since he was positive the first thing Daniel would have done would be to track down Gairwyn if he even suspected Jack had abandoned him that way. Instead, Daniel had headed for the place he thought Jack would be, and he hadn’t come out again when he’d found the hut unoccupied.

Time to get this over with, then. When he reached the doorway, Jack could see that Daniel was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up as Jack entered the hut.

“How’s Teal’c?” Jack asked. He stopped just inside the door and was leaning against one of the posts since he had no intention of going any closer until he’d said his piece. 

“He’s fine, Jack.” Daniel leaned back, letting his back rest against the hut wall, his arms crossed. There was a familiar, distinctly mutinous expression on Daniel’s face and, despite how angry he ought to be with him, it was all Jack could do to resist the urge to go over there and show him he wasn’t all that angry after all. “I’m not sorry, by the way.”

“You could have told me what you planned to do,” Jack said. He was trying for a reasonable tone, and though he was sure he managed it, Jack didn’t see any softening of Daniel’s expression in response. “Damn it, Daniel, what did you think I’d do?”

“It was my decision, Jack,” Daniel said. His face was unreadable now, though the stubborn jut of his jaw was much less evident, and Jack wondered what that meant. “I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position …”

Jack paused, considering that line of reasoning. He didn’t much like it, even though he had to concede Daniel was right; Jack had already calculated the amount of plausible deniability Daniel’s actions gave him, even if the way in which he’d managed to do that cast some doubt on Daniel’s own security clearance. If Jack told what he knew, of course, which he didn’t plan to do. 

“Did you even _think_ about the consequences?” Jack asked, then smiled as he saw the stubborn line return to Daniel’s jaw. “There was more than Steven Rayner at stake, remember?”

“I know,” Daniel said. “But I don’t regret any of it.” He paused, cocking his head to one side and eyeing Jack speculatively, an amused quirk of his lips visible now. “Though I wish you’d been more amenable to persuasion than brute force, Jack.”

\---------------------

They said their farewells to Gairwyn, who promised to tell Kendra of their wishes for her health—she’d retreated back to the house where she lived, apparently needing to give no explanation for her behavior since the people of Cimmeria asked for none. 

“Where are we going?” Daniel asked, waiting once again for the Chappa’ai to take him somewhere. 

This time he didn’t recognize most of the symbols, though the confident way that Jack used the other device—the thing they called the Dial Home Device, because they didn’t know the Goa’uld name for it—reassured him that Jack at least knew where they were headed. 

“The Alpha site,” Jack replied. “It’s an outpost of the project, on an unoccupied planet. There’s no direct route back to Cheyenne Mountain without a specific code to open the iris that’s over the Chappa’ai there—without that it’s bugs on a windshield time.” He watched the last of the symbols spin into place as the previous six had already done, and then gestured toward the Chappa’ai. “After you, Professor Jackson.”

Daniel glanced at Jack sharply, wondering what that was in aid of. Was this the shape of things to come between them? It was possible Jack had decided he needed to cool things down, since it hadn’t taken much encouragement for the atmosphere between the two of them to become hot and heavy over the past few days. Unexpectedly little encouragement, considering Daniel had hardly been intending to get involved with anyone, let alone a career Air Force officer with an attitude. 

Jack was on his heels as Daniel headed for the Chappa’ai, the two of them waving to Gairwyn who watched them disappear from her sight. The other side was equally blessed with trees, but they were greeted by a contingent of armed men, each clad in similar camouflage gear to that which Jack wore. One of the men recognized Jack as soon as he emerged, visibly relaxing when he saw a familiar face, and snapped a salute, which Jack returned. 

“You can tell Major Pierce that Colonel O’Neill and Professor Daniel Jackson are here, and we’d like a ride home,” Jack said. 

Daniel looked round at Jack’s tone, which was nothing if not professional—had he become so used to Jack that he’d actually forgotten he was an Air Force officer? 

The airman hurried to obey Jack, with an alacrity that he could see Jack admired -it wasn’t every day people from Earth came through the Chappa’ai, Daniel supposed, particularly not ones that were unexpected and yet familiar. Well, at least that was the case where Jack was concerned, if not himself.

A man who had to be Pierce emerged from a nearby tent, the same tent Daniel had seen the airman disappear into only moments earlier. 

“Colonel?” He crossed the space between them, halting to salute Jack. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

“Likewise, Major,” Jack replied, snapping off a response to Pierce’s salute. “We’re in need of some assistance.”

Daniel was aware of the curious looks he was getting, openly from Pierce and covertly from the other members of the Alpha site and he supposed he couldn’t blame them—the nature of the military settlement meant that they were used to seeing people like themselves, and Daniel knew he definitely didn’t fit that mold. 

“Here,” Pierce said, removing a device from his pocket and handing it to Jack. “Don’t leave home without one.”

“We hadn’t planned to,” Jack replied, with a wry smile. “Things got a little … out of hand.”

Pierce smiled as well; clearly something else passed between the two officers other than the object Jack had been given, something only they could understand and that was like a foreign language to Daniel, despite his own proficiency with other forms of communication.

\---------------------

After what he and Daniel had been through in the past few days, it was hardly surprising that coming back to Cheyenne Mountain felt like something of an anti-climax. Their boots rang with a sound Jack knew all too well as the two of them headed down the ramp into the embarkation room; General Hammond had been watching from the observation room as they emerged from the Chappa’ai. 

“Welcome back, Colonel,” he said, over the loudspeaker system. “And Professor Jackson. It’s good to see you both.”

Jack glanced at Daniel, unsure whether he shared the general’s pleasure in their being back in Colorado, but his face gave nothing away. Daniel hadn’t said much since they’d arrived at the Alpha site, and he wondered just what was going on inside that prizewinning brain. Not that this was hardly the place for that conversation; they were unlikely to get much peace in the immediate future if Jack’s experience of coming back from off world missions was anything to go by.

“First stop, the infirmary,” Jack said, taking hold of Daniel’s sleeve and steering him toward the blast door, which slid open as they neared it. 

He’d decided long ago that the best way to deal with the armed escort every returning team received was to just ignore it, but he wasn’t sure that Daniel would be quite as understanding of the need to be careful before they could check for unwanted passengers. 

“Do they really think we could be hosts?” Daniel asked, as they entered the elevator with their escort. He looked round, taking in the wariness of the airmen with them in a glance. “Okay, maybe they do.”

At least Dr. Fraiser had seemed pleased to see them, and she took them through the usual process of scans with a reassuring smile before telling them that the general wanted to see them both. No surprises there, though Jack would have given a great deal to snatch a few hours shuteye before the inevitable debriefing began, especially if that shuteye happened to take place in a bed that was also occupied by Daniel. 

Hell, who was he kidding? If he could get Daniel naked somewhere private, Jack had little intention of either of them getting much sleep any time soon. And he was sure Daniel knew that too, though he wasn’t currently giving much away. Back in the elevator, this time without the armed escort, Jack watched the numbers change and wondered how long it would be before he could get a chance of a little alone time with a certain professor. 

If he’d been sure the elevator car wasn’t wired for sound, Jack would have thought about warning Daniel to say as little as possible, if that was something Daniel was even capable of, but he wondered whether that warning was too little, too late. Daniel knew the implications of what he’d done, which was why he’d engineered Steven’s escape—if you could call it an escape—the way he had, to give Jack the chance to honestly say he didn’t have anything to do with it. Even if the things Daniel had done were likely to be enough to ensure that he was out of Cheyenne Mountain the moment Hammond figured it all out. 

Jack wondered if Rayner realized how lucky he was, or what a break he’d caught by the sheer fact of Daniel being around at the right time. If not for Daniel, he’d be inside a well-guarded facility by now, not gadding about the universe with the free Jaffa. Probably not. The way Daniel described Rayner, even though he’d once been more than friendly with the guy, he probably thought the universe owed him a free ride and that Daniel was just there to ensure he got his just deserts.

\---------------------

By the time General Hammond had taken them both through the sequence of events since they left Cairo not once, but three times, Daniel was ready to call it quits. He’d slumped back in his chair, aware that it hardly demonstrated any respect for either the general’s rank or the seriousness of the events he’d been involved in, but he was too tired to care. 

Daniel could tell Jack was getting fractious too, since his responses to the general’s questions were becoming shorter and shorter—the only person who seemed oblivious was Hammond himself, though his perceptive eyes made Daniel wonder if he knew exactly what he was doing. Hammond had certainly paid much less attention to what had happened after Steven was no longer a host, accepting Jack’s story that Steven had managed to escape through the Chappa’ai before they’d realized he wasn’t as badly injured as they thought. 

Maybe Hammond’s plan was to try to catch them out, looking for inconsistencies in their accounts of what had happened, but at the moment Daniel was too tired to worry about that. At least a spell in a jail cell would probably give him a chance to sleep. 

“I’ve heard enough,” Hammond said, the words breaking into Daniel’s consideration of what might happen if he just got up from his seat and walked out. Or if he just lay his head down on the table and went to sleep, regardless of how uncomfortable that would probably be. “I can see you’re both tired, so we can take this up again at another time.” 

Hammond rose from his seat and Jack stood as well, until the general had left the room, then he slumped back into his own chair once more, his posture a mirror image of Daniel’s. 

“That’s our cue,” Jack said, without opening his eyes. “We should leave.”

“We really should,” Daniel replied, but it was a couple of minutes later before he was able to summon up the energy to move, and only then because Jack had stood up and was pulling him out of his chair.

“We need to get out of here,” Jack said, letting go of Daniel’s arm once he seemed certain Daniel could stand on his own. He crossed to a telephone that hung on a nearby wall. “This is Colonel O’Neill,” Jack said. “I need a driver.”

Things were better once the two of them were moving, Daniel decided, and by the time they emerged at the surface he was almost awake again. There was a car waiting for them, an airman standing by the passenger side door, and Jack let him ride shotgun without comment. 

Daniel made himself stay awake on the drive from the mountain to Jack’s house, even though the roadside lights were almost hypnotic. He had a sneaking suspicion that Jack was going to want to talk about what had happened back on Cimmeria, but Daniel had no intention of talking about anything important until he’d had either a solid eight hours’ sleep or enough coffee to drown a horse. Preferably both. 

“We’re here,” Jack said, his hand resting on Daniel’s shoulder for a moment before he shook him, as if he expected Daniel to be asleep.

“I’m awake,” Daniel said, though he wasn’t sure how clear the words were. “Thank you,” he continued, addressing the airman, who didn’t reply. 

“It’s his job, Daniel,” Jack said. Daniel couldn’t see the expression on Jack’s face but he could hear the amusement in his voice. “That’s all, Airman.”

Daniel opened the car door, the night air waking him up a little. He wasn’t sure how it could still be night here in Colorado, since it had been the middle of the day on Cimmeria by the time they’d left, but then he didn’t feel able to give the matter that much consideration. 

By the time he’d followed Jack up the steps into the house, hearing the car drive off again behind them, Daniel was almost awake enough to choose coffee over sleep. But when he tried to make a detour into the kitchen, Jack snagged his sleeve and redirected him toward the corridor that led to the bedrooms. 

“Get some sleep, Daniel.” 

The distance implied in those words stung a little, but in the wake of Jack’s decision to lie to the general, they were hardly a surprise. Daniel headed down the corridor, pausing for a moment at the door to the guest room before deciding that was the most appropriate place—anything else looked more than a little presumptuous. 

All Daniel could hope, as he toed off his shoes and crawled onto the bed, was that Jack might be inclined to lend him some clothes in the morning. They were pretty much of a size, after all, and his own clothes were almost at the point of moving on their own.

\---------------------

He’d been disappointed, to say the least, to discover that Daniel had made a beeline for the guest room, wondering if that said anything about how welcome he thought he’d be in Jack’s bed after what had happened on Cimmeria. By the time Jack had realized where Daniel was, visiting the bathroom before he thought to wonder what was going on with the other man, Daniel was already sound asleep on the bed in the guest room, sprawled out across it fully clothed. 

This morning, it didn’t seem to matter what Jack tried. Daniel had been polite but noncommittal, about everything—he hadn’t even responded when Jack had said a few choice words about Steven Rayner and what it meant that Daniel had risked his own neck to ensure Rayner didn’t end up locked away for the rest of his life. Jack was starting to think he should never consider playing poker against Daniel if he was able to manage such a good poker face when the stakes were so much higher. 

When the phone rang, Jack was almost relieved. Anything to stop him thinking about all of that, or how good Daniel looked wearing one of Jack’s own shirts and a pair of khakis. 

“Colonel?” Jack’s heart sank when he realized who was on the other end of the line. “Are you there?”

“I’m here, Doc. What’s up?”

“Just routine,” Janet Fraiser said, ignoring the crack, as she always did whenever Jack made it. “We need to redo one of your tests. Something happened with the sample.”

Jack looked at Daniel, who was currently studying the far wall of the kitchen as if the secrets of the universe were written there. He didn’t want to leave things like this, particularly since he had no idea what General Hammond would want to do with Daniel, or what Daniel himself planned to do. For all he knew, Daniel would jump on the next plane back to Chicago given half a chance, leaving everything up in the air between them. Even the thought of that was enough to give Jack chills, though he’d never mention it to anyone. 

“You want me to come in?” Jack asked. At least Daniel was looking at him now, his interest engaged. “How about Dr. Jackson? Did his tests come back okay?”

Daniel was cradling the cup of coffee Jack had given him as if it was fragile, his long fingers curled around it protectively. 

“His tests are fine,” Janet said.

“Oh, so you want him to come back in too?” Jack said, making himself look out of the window rather than at Daniel. It was easier to lie that way. “Sure, we can be back at the mountain then,” he continued, over Dr. Fraiser’s protests, before hanging up. 

“More tests?” Daniel asked. He got up and walked over to the percolator, poured himself another cup of coffee, then leaned against the counter and sipped at it. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as you’re ready,” Jack said. 

He made himself ignore the fact Daniel was watching him, concentrating instead on trying to figure out just how he was going to resolve this situation between now and whenever Daniel tried to make a run for it. If Daniel was going to leave, Jack had every intention of having his say before he did so, and maybe that way he could even change the other man’s mind.

\---------------------

At some point since they’d left the country, Jack’s truck had been picked up from Scott Air Force Base and brought back to Colorado, so they didn’t need to call for a driver. Daniel climbed into the passenger seat, then watched the scenery go by for a couple of minutes while he tried to think of how to start this conversation. Not that he really wanted to, but what choice did he have? One of them had to be the grownup here, otherwise Daniel had a feeling he’d be forced to leave by the sheer weight of things left unsaid between them. 

“You lied to the general, Jack.”

Jack didn’t turn, keeping his attention on the traffic, and Daniel found himself oddly glad of that. It was much easier talking to Jack’s profile. 

“You noticed.” Jack glanced across momentarily, a wry expression on his face, then back to the road. “I didn’t see an alternative.”

Daniel considered that for a moment, wondering if Jack was right. He’d done what he did for Steven without a second thought, trying to balance things so that Jack couldn’t get the blame, but had never really thought about the possible consequences for himself. 

Apparently Jack _had_ given the matter some thought, at some point between him taking Steven to the free Jaffa and finding themselves being debriefed by a two-star general who was unlikely to be sympathetic toward losing that kind of a source on the Goa’uld. Assuming they were right and Steven knew anything; assuming Steven even survived the wounds the Unas had given him, which still wasn’t a certainty. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Daniel said. “But can you live with that decision?”

Despite what they’d gone through together, despite the number of times they’d shared a bed, he didn’t feel like he knew Jack at all. Superficially, of course, so Daniel had hoped he wouldn’t be too mad when he came back to Cimmeria without Steven and had been pleased to find his theory was correct. Other than that, there was plenty they had yet to learn about one another, if they ever had the opportunity. 

Daniel looked out of the window again, remembering the cool spring air of Cimmeria and contrasting it with the gray skies that hung over Colorado, the clouds heavy with threatened snow. What was he going to do about all this? The things he’d experienced, the other worlds he’d visited, had thrown his understanding of the universe into turmoil. Where once Daniel had found order and reason in what he knew of the worlds inhabited by the people of Earth some thousands of years before, now he could only see that they had merely scratched the surface of what there was to know. 

“Give me another way.” Jack’s words intruded into Daniel’s thoughts. “I thought about what you did, Daniel. There’s no way of turning it into something good, even if you did what you thought was right.” The tone told Daniel just how unlikely it was Jack would ever agree with that belief where Steven was concerned, but he was used to that by now. “You could kiss your security clearance goodbye.”

The words were on the tip of Daniel’s tongue— _you want me to stay?_ —but he bit them back, recognizing the momentary insecurity that put them there; the fact Jack had even _mentioned_ his security clearance was enough of an indication of the way his mind was working toward what Daniel might decide to do. If he had learned anything from Steven, it had been that he couldn’t rely on anyone else’s opinion for his own happiness. A decision to stay, or to go back to Chicago and pick up where he’d left off, had to be of his own making. Sure, it would help if Jack wanted him here, but that was a bonus. 

“You’re assuming I need that clearance,” Daniel said. 

He didn’t miss the way Jack stiffened when he said the words, even though he didn’t look round; he wasn’t sure they were true, since he was a long way from any kind of decision, even now.   
“Your call, Daniel.” Jack’s voice was casual, but Daniel wasn’t convinced by the tone. “Whatever happens.”

They’d reached the base by now, the conversation ending there by mutual agreement, even as Jack let his truck roll to a halt by the security checkpoint. He nodded at one of the airmen on duty, who stepped back into the booth and hit the control that raised the barrier. 

When the elevator door slid open on the appropriate level and Dr. Fraiser was standing there, waiting for the two of them, she wasted no time at all in making it clear that Daniel was surplus to requirements, no matter what Jack had said. Jack just shrugged as he allowed the doctor to lead him away, but Daniel couldn’t really blame him for ensuring he tagged along as well—no matter how ambivalent he felt about what went on here at Cheyenne Mountain, he wouldn’t have wanted to be kicking around Jack’s house while he tried to figure out what to do. 

He was about to try and negotiate his way to Rothman’s section instead when a harried-looking sergeant appeared at his elbow.

“Professor Jackson?” he asked. “Could you come with me, sir? General Hammond would like to see you.”

That didn’t bode well. Daniel tried to remember the story they’d apparently decided on as he followed the sergeant through the maze of gray concrete. After a couple of minutes, they arrived at a familiar-looking conference room, the one in which they’d been debriefed the previous night; apparently he hadn’t noticed that it adjoined a small office, which was apparently Hammond’s domain. 

“Professor Jackson, General,” the sergeant said, then disappeared as quickly as he had previously appeared at Daniel’s side. 

“Take a seat, Professor,” Hammond said. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” 

If there was anything this reminded Daniel of, he decided, it was being called to see the principal. Not that he had ever had that experience, of course, but he’d heard enough about it from those more rebellious souls who he’d shared classes with. 

“I expect you’ll be keen to get back to Chicago,” Hammond said. “Thank you for your assistance in this matter, even though it didn’t quite end up as we’d hoped.”

That sounded like a dismissal, and Daniel had to wonder what had prompted this apparent change in attitude. Previously, Hammond had seemed to welcome him, and now he couldn’t wait for Daniel to get on a plane and go home? It made little sense, unless he’d figured out there was something in their stories from the previous night that didn’t quite add up. He needed to know, because of the risk that posed to Jack, even if Daniel’s own involvement in what went on here was now likely to be short-lived. 

“I’d hoped to have the chance to catch up with Dr. Rothman before I go,” Daniel said. “It’s possible I could be of some assistance to him.” He wasn’t sure how much he could really help Rothman, given that the other man had been working with whatever had been brought back for how long—months? years?—but at least the suggestion would give him a chance to see how desperate the general was to get rid of him. 

“Of course,” Hammond replied, with a smile. “Whatever help you’re able to give would be appreciated.” He paused, looked as though he was considering something. “But surely your institution will expect you back, and with the loss of Dr. Rayner as well …”

He left the sentence unfinished, but the implication was clear enough; for an academic institution to lose a professor was bad enough, but for the head of the department to be absent at the same time? The general was correct, of course, even if Daniel didn’t really want to admit it. The loss of both himself and Steven to the Oriental Institute could be a serious blow, and it was one he needed to remedy, as much as he was able. 

“You’re right,” Daniel said, even if that meant leaving everything else unresolved. At least it didn’t look as though Hammond suspected anything—or at least, if he did, he didn’t seem inclined to act on it to Jack’s detriment. That was the best Daniel could ask for, at this point in time at least, and so it would have to do. “I’ll catch the next plane to Chicago, if you could have someone drive me to the airport.”

“There’s a plane standing by at Peterson, son,” Hammond said, as he reached for the telephone.


	8. Epilogue

The rest of his team hadn’t been all that pleased with him, Jack was certain of that. But their performance had been sloppy enough to earn the reprimands he’d handed out all around—on another day, an unluckier day, they might all have been captured or killed and he had no hesitation telling them so. In the embarkation room at the foot of the Chappa’ai. Loudly. 

He didn’t like to think anything had really changed with him since Daniel had left, but the truth needed to be faced. Jack O’Neill was never a man to run away from a hard fact, just because it was something he didn’t want to consider, even if that fact said something about his own character he didn’t want to think about. 

Damn it, he missed Daniel more than he’d ever thought possible. Every stubborn inch of the man, every annoying habit and unmilitary way of doing things. Even though he’d apparently turned tail and run back to Chicago, without a word of explanation. Just when Jack had been sure he’d understood he’d be more than welcome to stay, that there was a place at Cheyenne Mountain for him, even if Jack had to personally evict Rothman to make sure of it. 

He also couldn’t help thinking about the sex. As if they’d both known the end was at hand, they’d slept in separate rooms the last night they could have been together and that had been it. No chance for things to turn sour between them, nothing to spoil the way they had been together, which had always been pretty damn good, to say the least. Jack wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. Worse, he decided, after a moment’s thought; at least if the sex had been bad then he wouldn’t be thinking about Daniel every damn time he jerked off. And if he kept on telling himself that, maybe he’d believe it one day. 

To cap a perfect day, when his team got back with their haul, there was no sign of Rothman. It wasn’t their usual practice to bring whatever they’d brought back with them straight to the geeks, but it wasn’t all that odd a thing to do either. It usually depended on whether any of them needed to make a side trip to the infirmary—this time, against the odds and his team’s abysmal behavior, they’d been lucky and emerged unscathed. 

“Where’s Dr. Rothman?” Jack asked, snagging the sleeve of a scared-looking technician and pulling her round to face him. She paled, clutching her clipboard in front of her as if she expected to be attacked. “Rothman?” he repeated, when all she did was gulp and shake her head, eyes wide. 

Jack let go of her sleeve and she scurried away. Damn, that was all he needed. 

“Get out of here,” he said, turning to the rest of his team, who eyed him as cautiously as if they expected some kind of trick. “Now. Before I put you all on KP.”

In a matter of moments, Jack was alone with the box full of alien technology they’d acquired off world and an empty lab. Even the technician he’d terrified had disappeared and, as far as Jack could see, the rest of the adjoining rooms were unoccupied as well. 

Jack glanced at his watch and tried to calculate just how long he had before Hammond would expect a report. He’d seen the general in the observation room, even if he hadn’t interrupted Jack’s dressing down of his team; Hammond’s face had been unreadable, so he didn’t know if he was facing a tirade of his own or whether the general would ignore the whole incident like it never happened. That was possible, but the way Jack’s luck was going, he wouldn’t hold his breath. 

He waited a few more minutes, but with no sign of any of Rothman’s geeks. Eventually, Jack decided there was nothing for it but to leave the alien items in their box, which was locked anyway, and head up to see Hammond. The last thing he needed, if the general was in the mood to dress him down, was to keep the man waiting. 

When he knocked on the door, the barked instruction to come in told Jack everything he needed to know about Hammond’s mood. 

“Do you go out of your way to make my life more difficult, Colonel?” Hammond began, without any preamble. “Or does it just come naturally?”

“Sir?”

Ignorance was the best defense, Jack decided. He had an idea what he’d done this time but the general would certainly tell him in no uncertain terms, so why prolong the inevitable?

“Against my better judgment,” Hammond continued, “I have granted Dr. Rothman the leave of absence he requested.”

“Leave of absence?” Jack echoed. He didn’t know anything about Rothman’s plans; the two of them were hardly confidants, after all. “Rothman’s gone?”

Hammond’s expression told Jack everything he needed to know about what the general thought of Rothman leaving and suspected of Jack’s involvement in his decision to do so. 

“He is.” Hammond looked down at the folders on the top of his desk. “And now it’s your job to find a replacement for him, Colonel.”

“My job?” Jack knew it was a mistake the moment the words emerged from his mouth. “I mean, of course, sir.”

Hammond nodded, gathered together the relevant folders with a sweep of one hand and then held them out to Jack.

“You have a week, Colonel,” he said. “No more. This facility cannot afford to be without someone of Rothman’s expertise any longer than that.” He leaned back in his chair, sharp blue eyes glittering for a moment. “Dismissed.”

Jack shifted the folders to his other hand smoothly and saluted, then left the general’s office. He didn’t know what Hammond thought he’d done to Rothman and he didn’t particularly want to know. He was certain whatever Rothman thought had happened wasn’t his fault, or at least Jack was sure it couldn’t be. He’d hardly exchanged two words with the man since he’d come back from Chicago—since Daniel had left. 

He couldn’t bring himself to even look at the folders Hammond had given him. The thought alone was too much—this was a golden opportunity to get Daniel back here, back to Cheyenne Mountain where he ought to be. And back in Jack’s bed as well, if Jack himself had anything to say about it. 

Not that he could let Daniel know he was only getting the call because Rothman had decided to make for the hills. That was hardly a good strategy if Jack wanted Daniel to think they desperately needed him here—that _Jack_ desperately needed him here, if that had any sway over the man. 

If Daniel would believe either version as being anything near the truth. He was notoriously perceptive when it came to figuring out what Jack was up to, even if he’d given that ass Steven Rayner the benefit of the doubt more than once. Still, at least there was no barrier in terms of Daniel’s security clearance—Catherine Langford had seen to that years ago, for which Jack could kiss her, and he was certain the old biddy would love that. 

Jack dropped the folders off in his office, not even bothering to glance at the information they contained. What was the point, when he had every intention of fulfilling Hammond’s request with his own plan to lure Daniel back to Colorado? He headed down to the locker room, finding it deserted as his team had long since changed and moved out; he couldn’t blame them, that they hadn’t waited for more from him. As he relaxed under the hot water, feeling the warmth of the spray on his shoulders, Jack found the tension evaporating from his body.

That was part of the problem, then. The fact he’d let Daniel go without a fight, hadn’t even bothered to try and persuade him he ought to stay at Cheyenne Mountain, that this was the place he belonged. That if fate, or circumstance, hadn’t intervened, this was where Daniel would have been long before. Here, with Jack. 

He’d taken that out on his team, he was certain of that, though he was equally certain they’d also deserved what Jack had dished out in the embarkation room. He couldn’t separate the two things, though, not easily. His annoyance at Daniel, the ease with which he’d just packed up and gone back to his life in Chicago, leaving Jack behind, was definitely a factor when it came to his tolerance for his team’s lack of professionalism.

“Colonel?”

The word echoed strangely in the shower, but Jack recognized the voice, and reached out blindly to turn off the water.

“Here,” Jack said, as he headed for the locker room, snagging a towel with one hand as he slicked back his hair with the other. “What is it, Ferretti?”

“The general says we have forty-eight hours until our next mission, sir,” Ferretti said. 

He looked pleased with himself, as well he might considering the mess they’d made of that mission—Hammond would have been well within his rights to move them up the schedule, not give them down time. 

Jack couldn’t see why Hammond hadn’t mentioned it to him, but then he’d been too busy dressing Jack down for his role in making Rothman disappear, so maybe it had slipped his mind? That was unlikely, considering the general’s mind was like a steel trap behind that good old boy façade, but Jack was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt this time. 

“Get out of here, Ferretti.” Jack reached into his locker, turning his back on the other man, whose disappearing footsteps he heard just a moment later. 

When he got back to his office, Jack settled back into his chair, looked up at the clock on the wall and tried to decide what to do. The folders Hammond had given him lay on the surface of his desk where he’d dropped them, the names on their tabs unfamiliar. Jack wondered whether he should have been surprised Daniel wasn’t one of the candidates for Rothman’s position—he’d had the chance when Catherine approached him, after all, and had turned the Air Force down in no uncertain terms. He knew Hammond had spoken to Daniel too, though he didn’t know the subject of their conversation, but surely it was enough to know that Daniel wasn’t here already to figure that out?

It was an hour later in Chicago than it was in Colorado. When he'd come back through the Chappa'ai, Jack had come back to Colorado time, discovering it was the middle of the afternoon, though the overall appearance of the base was never much help at first, being pretty much the same 24/7. At least he now knew it was 4 p.m. where Daniel was, not 4.a.m., so Jack didn’t have an excuse to put this off any longer. He picked up the telephone, dialed the number of Daniel’s office and waited through a click and then the sound of it ringing. 

“Dr. Jackson’s office,” a brisk voice said, after the fifth ring, just when Jack was about to give up hope and try again another time. 

“Isobel?” Jack asked.

“Miss McGuire,” she corrected, her voice reminding Jack of one of his grade school teachers. It wasn’t a pleasant memory. “Who is this?”

“It’s Colonel O’Neill, Miss McGuire,” he said, wondering if he imagined the disapproval he was sure he heard in Isobel’s voice. He remembered how unhappy she’d been when Daniel had dropped everything to run off to Egypt with him; if she’d known half of what was to follow, Jack was certain Isobel would be more than disapproving of him. “Is Dr. Jackson there?”

There was a pause, and for a moment Jack wondered if Isobel was about to put the phone down on him. In the end, he decided that was unlikely, since she’d probably regard that kind of behavior as the height of bad manners. 

“I’m sorry, but Dr. Jackson is not available,” Isobel said smoothly, not sounding sorry at all. “Can I take a message?”

Jack considered the request but couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say—nothing that he wanted to tell Isobel anyway, that much was certain. 

“Just tell him I called, would you?” he said, finally, then cradled the receiver. 

That conversation hadn’t gone to plan at all. In his imagination, Jack had managed to get hold of Daniel within a matter of moments, then explain to him somehow that he was needed back in Colorado; the words, whatever words he imagined he would have said, had been persuasive enough that Daniel had agreed with him, giving his word he’d be on the next flight to Denver. Instead of which, he’d been headed off at the pass, one feisty secretary enough to give Jack O’Neill a run for his money. 

He scowled at the folders, then picked them up, opened a desk drawer and shoved them in. It was that or the trash; either way, Jack didn’t much care. He’d made his mind up who he wanted here, that Daniel was the only one he wanted in Rothman’s place, even if the little shit didn’t want to cooperate. 

Jack was reaching for his jacket, having decided to call it a day and go home, when a thought struck him, making him pause with his hand still outstretched. What if Daniel had told Isobel to say he wasn’t available? His hand closed on the material, crushing it, as the possibility became more and more real. Daniel could easily have decided to make a clean break with the project, even despite what he knew now about the reality of aliens and all. Jack shook his head, as if trying to free himself from the thought; it was crazy, Daniel wouldn’t do that. Not to him. 

He couldn’t shake the thought that easily, though, and it was with him all the way home. Jack was sure he’d driven on autopilot, since he found himself turning the corner into his own street, uncertain of what had happened between the time he’d left the base and now. He drove up the hill toward his house, noting the car that was parked outside. It was only as he turned into his drive that Jack spotted the man who sat on his stoop, apparently waiting for him to get home. He was out of the truck almost before the engine stopped, then made himself slow down and cross the space between his driveway and the stoop as casually as he could. 

“Been waiting long?” Jack asked. Damn it, he sounded as nervous as he felt, though he wasn’t sure Daniel could tell.

“A while,” Daniel said as he pushed himself up from where he sat, then stood, one hand wrapped round the pillar that supported Jack’s porch. “I would have come to the base but …” The words dried up, though he was still smiling. “Cameras and all,” he said, finally, with a shrug. 

“I phoned your office,” Jack said. “Isobel told me you weren’t available.” He scowled, seeing Daniel’s smile fade a little at the expression on his face—despite that reaction, Jack was certain he couldn’t help his own response to Isobel. He didn’t like being played, not by anyone, and certainly not by someone who was almost old enough to be his mother. “Did you tell her to say that?”

The words came out more tersely than Jack had intended, but despite the tone of his voice Daniel’s smile was still there, somewhere. 

“You’ve met her,” Daniel replied. “Do you honestly think I can get Isobel to do anything she doesn’t want?” The confident expression on his face flickered for a moment, uncertainty showing through; he was wondering if this was such a good idea after all, Jack decided. 

“Let’s go in,” he said. Jack mounted the steps up to the porch, brushing so close to where Daniel stood that he could feel the other man’s body heat, feel the way he reacted to it even now, despite his residual annoyance at the day’s events. “Daniel?” Jack paused at the door as he glanced over his shoulder to where Daniel still stood, watching him. “You _do_ want to come in, don’t you?”

Daniel didn’t answer immediately and Jack turned his attention back to the door, fumbling for a moment as he fitted the key into the lock. This wasn’t going well at all. Why the hell was Daniel even here?

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Daniel said, quietly. “I should have called first …” 

Jack turned; behind him, the door swung open, unattended. Daniel was still leaning against the pillar, trying to look relaxed, but his own pleasure at seeing Daniel had all but evaporated. 

“If there’s any mistakes here,” Jack said, “I probably made them.” He gestured over his shoulder, a thumb pointing back toward the open door and the house beyond. “Get in there, Daniel.”

For a moment, Daniel didn’t move and Jack was sure he’d made yet another mistake, the latest in the day’s catalogue. But then he pushed himself upright, walked past Jack and into the house. Jack shook his head, then followed him.

\---------------------

Inside, the house was in darkness, the only lights coming from the street outside or the headlights of cars as they passed. He couldn’t see the expression on Jack’s face, and for that Daniel was oddly glad. He was certain he’d overplayed his hand, misjudged the situation and the welcome he’d receive—as the minutes had passed, waiting for Jack to get home, Daniel had been in two minds to just get the hell out of there. He could have been back in his rental, back to Denver airport and on a plane to Chicago before Jack even realized he’d been there, if he ever knew. 

Instead, he’d stayed. Regardless of the small voice in his head that told him it was a really bad idea, that his chances of recapturing what he’d experienced with Jack over that brief period they’d been thrown together were so slim it made a mockery of any claims to common sense on his part. That Jack had probably been glad to see the back of him when General Hammond had organized a seat on a plane back to Illinois, so he could get back to the Oriental Institute and whatever passed for normal in his life.

Which would have been fine if Daniel hadn’t been driving himself and, as a result, everyone else around him absolutely crazy. Suddenly, all the things that had seemed so important only weeks before, the necessary trappings of a senior academic at a prestigious university, were trivial in comparison. He had traveled across the galaxy and now he was supposed to concentrate on grant proposals? It was bad enough that he had to cope with the aftermath of Steven Rayner disappearing too, with the concerns that had raised, but to try and carry on as if nothing had happened? 

Daniel had seen the expression on Isobel’s face, when she didn’t think he was looking, and known immediately what it meant; she was certain Daniel had lost his grip on reality, which was probably not that far from the truth. 

It was a heady combination, the combined lure of the work he knew went on under Cheyenne Mountain and the man who’d dragged him halfway across the universe within days of their first meeting. Heady enough that Daniel had seriously considered getting in touch with Catherine Langford and seeing if he could take her up on her original offer, to join that crazy project of hers if it was still in existence and they’d still have him. He was sure Jack would laugh, tell him to give it some thought at least, not understanding how big a part he’d played in turning Daniel’s previously-comfortable universe on its head, in more ways than one. 

In the end, it had been Rothman’s telephone call that had clinched things, making Daniel’s decision for him. Robert hadn’t said anything about Jack, and Daniel hadn’t asked him, but he’d been clear on his own plans; he needed to get out of the mountain, Robert was adamant about that, and so there would soon be a vacancy. A Daniel-shaped vacancy, if Robert’s opinion was to be believed. 

“You phoned my office, Jack?” Daniel asked, once he’d heard the door close and was certain they were alone. “Why was that, exactly?”

Jack turned the lights on, then crossed to pull down the shades on the window before turning to face Daniel. His face was unreadable, so it was hard to tell if the next thing he’d say would be anything Daniel would want to hear; his answer could be in line with Daniel’s own plans or he might have massively overestimated the importance of what they’d gone through together, in more ways than one.

“What’re you doing here, Daniel?” Jack had shoved his hands in his pockets, and now he just stood there, in front of where Daniel stood, as if the two of them had grown roots. “You don’t call, you don’t write …”

“About that,” Daniel began. He wondered how important the right words were, whether for once in his life it didn’t really matter what he said or did next, because he’d already committed himself just by being here, waiting for Jack to get home. “I got a call from Robert Rothman.” Jack nodded. His face didn’t change, no sign of surprise or encouragement for Daniel to continue. “He said he needed to get away, that working in the mountain was driving him crazy.”

Jack cocked his head to one side, as if considering those words, and it seemed a long time before he spoke, though in reality Daniel knew it could only have been a matter of seconds. 

“And so you just jumped on a plane and came down here?”

“That’s about it,” Daniel said. “And while I hadn’t expected the welcome wagon, I thought at least you’d be pleased to see me, Jack.” Damn, was he _whining_ now? That was enough of that; if he’d made a mistake he could just cut his losses right now. “If that’s not the case, maybe I should just go …”

He’d barely taken half a step toward the door before Jack moved, intercepting him smoothly. Jack’s hands were out of his pockets now, making a universally recognizable gesture for “stop right there” and Daniel hesitated, giving him a chance to have his say. 

“Give a guy a break, won’t you?” Jack asked. “You came all the way here, after all…”

\---------------------

All the training Jack had ever had insisted he needed to think on his feet, but just the sight of Daniel sitting there, on his porch, had been enough to make him wonder if he’d ever known how. It shouldn’t have that effect, nothing should, but there it was. Evidence he was well and truly sunk, and if Daniel didn’t know that now he soon would, Jack was certain of that. 

He could read Daniel’s uncertainty, even though the other man probably thought it was well-hidden, and Jack wondered what the wait had been like. He was probably lucky Daniel was still here, that his innate stubbornness was enough to make sure he saw things through, one way or another. 

Before Daniel had gone back to Chicago, the last time they’d been together on the trip to the mountain, he’d thought for a moment he could say the words, but he couldn’t ask Daniel to give up everything else he’d worked for and stay in Colorado. With or without him. So instead he’d driven everyone crazy afterwards, taking out his own frustrations on the people around him until circumstances had forced them back together again. 

“It’s good to see you,” Jack said, barely trusting himself to say any more than that. Those words were enough, it seemed, as they made Daniel relax a little, so he didn’t look like he was fixing to make a run for it at any moment. “I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.”

“About that …” Daniel said. He still looked uncomfortable, which wasn’t at all surprising. “I needed to get back to Chicago and sort some things out, what with Steven and everything. General Hammond organized it all.”

 _I bet he did_ , Jack thought, wondering what the general’s motivation had been. He’d been so sure Hammond liked Daniel, that he would have jumped at the chance of recruiting him if he’d thought it a possibility, but yet he’d still fast-tracked Daniel leaving like this? It didn’t make sense, unless he suspected there was something less than accurate about the story the two of them had told him. And yet Hammond had also given him the job of finding Rothman's replacement, when he must have known who would be top of Jack's list.

“What are you doing here, Daniel?” The words were a little more abrupt than he’d intended, but once they were spoken there was nothing Jack could do about that. “I mean,” he continued, “there’s a job available. If you want it.”

“So I heard,” Daniel replied. 

He was looking around the room as if he’d never been here before, as if the two of them hadn’t watched television on the couch right there, as if Daniel hadn’t helped him to his bedroom, which had been the start of something good between them. Was it Jack’s imagination or did Daniel’s eyes linger on the steps that led to the bedrooms? 

“General Hammond told me to appoint someone, or else,” Jack continued. That got Daniel’s attention, as he’d thought it might. “I’m currently drawing up a shortlist.” Daniel didn’t move as Jack approached him, though he could tell that took an effort. “Want to be on it?”

The last time Daniel had smiled at him, it had been so fleeting Jack had wondered if he’d imagined it—this time was different, unmistakable, the prelude to Daniel’s hands grabbing the front of his jacket and pulling him closer. Daniel’s mouth opened under his, as Jack’s hands tangled in Daniel’s hair. When he pulled back, Daniel was still smiling.

“Isn’t this a little unethical?” Daniel asked, as he took a couple of steps towards the couch and pulled Jack down with him. “Expecting sexual favors in exchange for employment, I mean.” 

It took a couple of moments for them to be comfortable, their limbs tangled together, Daniel’s hand sliding under the thin cotton of Jack’s shirt and across his back, fingers trailing into the depression between his buttocks in a distracting way. 

“You mean, do I want you to put out to get the job?” Jack asked, his mouth close to Daniel’s ear, tongue flicking at the skin there. “Would you?”

Daniel’s other hand was busy on Jack’s belt, trapped between the two of them, and Jack lifted himself a little even as he concentrated on Daniel’s neck, then on the place where his jaw curved, on the hollow beneath his ear. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave marks, not when he wanted Daniel at work as soon as Hammond would agree to it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t drive Daniel half crazy in other ways. He felt the moment when his belt loosened, the waistband of his trousers coming undone and Daniel’s fingers slipping even further down. 

“I don’t know if I should.” In a matter of moments, Daniel’s talented hand had freed Jack’s erection from his pants and his fingers were wrapped around its length, thumb rubbing against the underside as Daniel’s hand began to move. “That kind of thing could get a guy a reputation.” 

He was close enough to the edge already, had been that way since he’d realized Daniel intended to stay if he was honest with himself, that it took Jack a moment to think what he needed to say. 

“I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning,” Jack said, finally, then stifled his mingled laugh and groan of completion in Daniel’s shoulder as he felt Daniel laugh along with him.

\---------------------

Jack could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d been in Rothman’s office over the time the man had been working in Cheyenne Mountain, but somehow, with the new occupant being another man completely, he had a feeling that was going to change. 

“Here we are,” he said, letting the door swing open into the room. Daniel walked past him, his attention immediately drawn to the bookcases that lined the room, as Jack could have predicted would be the case. “Home sweet home.”

Jack looked around, not at all surprised to see there was little about this room that spoke of the personality of the man who had once occupied it. How long had Rothman been part of the project anyway? There was a pile of work in the middle of the desk, which gave some indication of how much of a hurry Rothman had been to leave, against which an envelope was propped. An envelope with Daniel’s name scrawled on it in Rothman’s distinctive chicken scratch handwriting. 

“I think this is for you.” 

“That’s Robert’s handwriting,” Daniel said, taking the envelope from him. “I wonder what it is?”

Jack pushed the pile of work on the desk to one side as Daniel opened the envelope and tipped its contents out. There were photographs and two pieces of paper—one large and one small. Daniel picked up the smaller one first, and opened it. After a moment, Daniel read its contents out loud.

“Daniel,” he said. “If there was ever any doubt that this is where you’re meant to be, the contents of this envelope should change your mind. Robert.” He turned the note over in his hand, but the reverse was obviously blank. “That’s very cloak and dagger, isn’t it?” Daniel continued. 

“I recognize those,” Jack said, looking at the photographs. “Back when the Chappa’ai was first brought here, there was a team of people trying to translate the inscription that was found with it.”

Daniel spread the photographs out, quickly sorting them into those which had a pile of hieroglyphs carved into stone and separating one which was different. It had a picture of a chalkboard with three lines of hieroglyphs drawn across it, the English translation of each hieroglyph written underneath. 

“What’s the other piece of paper?” Jack asked, his own curiosity piqued as well. It was all Daniel could do to tear himself away from the photographs, that much was clear, but he turned his attention to the larger piece, opening it carefully. 

“It’s the same hieroglyphs,” he said. “But the translation …” Daniel paused, and it was clear he was considering first the line of inscriptions and then the translations that had been provided. “You know, I wonder why they insist on reprinting Budge.”

It took a moment for Daniel to locate a pen on the wreckage of what had been Rothman’s desk, but then he found a sharpie lurking in one of the drawers. Quickly, he crossed out the translations he obviously didn’t like, then systematically replaced them until all the places he’d corrected held something new. 

“A million years into the sky is Ra Sun God,” Daniel read, his finger tracing the line of words. “Sealed and buried for all time, his Stargate.”

“Stargate?” Jack asked.

Daniel nodded. “I think that’s what the ancient Egyptians called the Chappa’ai.”

“Stargate.” Jack smiled. “I like the sound of that.”


End file.
